The Prisoners' Tale
by OlegGunnarsson
Summary: Harry Potter and Nagini have returned to Potter Manor, each hoping to begin rebuilding their lives. But before they can do that, they must first figure out who they truly are. A follow-up to Inside Man and Inside Woman, updated sporadically.
1. Legacy

The entrance hall of Potter Manor still enthralled him, even weeks later. The grand staircase, the crystal lights along the ceiling, the ornate woodwork on the walls, everything combined to make a welcoming space.

As he stood on the balcony, looking down at the enormous crest of House Potter, worked into the stone floor of the hall, he was filled with pride. He had made it here, after so long. He had cherished his memories of this place, few though they had been - for they had been some of the last memories he had that were not filled with anger and terror and longing.

Finally, he was home.

And he had no idea how to handle that.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. His hands idly moved along the wooden railing, feeling the inset designs and the grain of the wood. The basilisk skin long coat he wore flexed and stretched with his movement, the soft sound of the movement filling an otherwise quiet house.

The aromas of a light dinner wafted through the entrance hall, no doubt sent there deliberately by an elf. They both worried about his diet, and had resolved to make sure he ate often and well. "You must keep yourself strong, Master," the older of the two had said.

Having magical beings who cared what happened to him - that was another new sensation. When the two elves had walked into the manor, he had been shocked, seeing as the location was unplottable. From their telling, they were told that their new master awaited them at the manor, and then whoever had sent them gave them a portkey.

How someone knew where he had ended up, or even how they knew where here was, were both questions for another day. For now, he was grateful for their help.

Knowing that dinner would be ready soon, he walked down the hallway to the largest guest room. Quietly opening the door, he saw the only other being in residence.

Situated in an empty room, at the center of a large ritual circle, was a sleeping python. Thirty feet in length, the snake had coiled around herself for warmth and comfort. The ritual circle, inactive at the moment, had a runic array that had the effect of a dreamless sleep potion, except without its well-known addictive qualities.

Nagini, now that she had hope, was beginning to have nightmares again. She had had a long year, as servant to the Dark Lord, and the past three weeks had been equally exhausting. The pair of them spent long nights together, just talking about her experiences - both before losing her human form and after. One of the books in the Potter library called the process "Deprogramming." The book had been less than helpful in describing _how_ exactly to repair the damage caused by Voldemort's enslavement, but it offered some clues at least.

Once Nagini was healed, mentally and physically, Harry Potter hoped that she would return the favor. Because right now, the reality of his situation was starting to dawn on him.

oOoOoOoOo

" _Avada Kadavra!"_

 _He was being torn apart. A million teeth ripped into his little body, a million daggers struck him._

 _For the briefest moment, he saw a pale wand before him, held in a shaking, ghostly hand. And then the green blast of hatred rushed back toward him._

 _And he was being torn apart. A million teeth ripped into his body, a million daggers struck him. He cried out in rage and anger, the wand dropping from his hand. Except it was not his hand, it was the snake man's._

 _Voldemort. The snake man's name was Voldemort._

 _He was floating over his room, now, watching the snake man's body crumble to ash. In the crib, he saw what remained of his own body - a hideous black smear on the bedding._

 _Memories flooded him. He had died. Whatever mommy had done, it had not worked._

 _He realized that he was still screaming. And then he was flying away, into the night. Into darkness._

 _And the darkness went on forever, and forever, and forever, nothing but the thoughts of Voldemort, the anger, the rage, nothing but plans and plots and pain and pain and pain and_

"Master!"

Harry opened his eyes, and saw the house elf wringing its hands before him. His hair was drenched in sweat, as was his black shirt. Rising from the couch, he realized that he did not know what room he was in.

"Master," said the elf again, in a normal voice. "Master was dreaming again." It was not a question.

Harry shook his head, as if to ward off the memories. "It is nothing, Dobby. Thank you."

"Master must needs learn to lie better, Dobby thinks." The elf was smiling as he said this, causing Harry to chuckle.

"Perhaps you're right. Thank you, Dobby." With a soft pop, the elf disappeared. It was only then that Harry noticed the tray of water, tea, and snacks sitting on the table.

Looking around the room, Harry saw that this was some sort of study. It could not be the Lord's study, for he had not yet been in that room - and would not, until he had a chance to determine what effect the ritual would have on his heritage and inheritance.

The reality was that he had the body of Harry Potter, aged to its early twenties, but the blood of Cedric Diggory. One of Voldemort's plans had been to somehow usurp the Diggory family using that blood connection, taking control of a seat on the Wizengamot and, potentially, a wealth of political cover.

Who would suspect a light family of supporting the Dark Lord?

Subverting the ritual had changed everything, however, and Harry did not know if that had changed as well. But there were more pressing matters to deal with, including a sleeping python woman upstairs.

"Who the hell are you, boy?" Harry whirled about only to find an old, battle-scarred wizard looking down at him from a portrait. The man wore full battle robes, including an impressive array of daggers at his waist. He stood on a beach, in front of what had to have been a horrific battle. Nearby, three beams of steel had been welded together to form some sort of sculpture - an odd place for it, certainly.

Then the battlefield clicked - the uniform on the dead soldier being carried off frame sealed the image. It was World War II and the Invasion of Normandy.

"That's a rather long story, sir. Who are you?" Harry saw the wizard consider the question. After a moment, he seemed to relax a little.

"My name is Charlus Potter. I was the last Lord Potter."

oOoOoOoOo

"Perhaps," was the only answer Harry could give to that bold statement.

"Perhaps, nothing, lad. My son and his wife got themselves killed by a Dark Lord, and their baby died killing the sod. All I had left of the boy was a pile of ashes, not even enough to bury." Charlus' sorrow was palpable, and Harry worried that the portrait would begin to weep somehow.

"Eight years, I lingered, knowing I was the last of my line." He waved at the wall, where a World War II era long rifle was displayed alongside a cutlass and a revolver. "When magic would not allow me to end my life, I tried muggle means." He laughed bitterly. "But the family magic protected me."

"Family magic is powerful," Harry said, processing this information. "What could cause your family magic to do that, though?"

"I can tell you exactly why. They never declared my grandson dead!" The words poured out of the man, his rage building. "Nothing but ash and soot, and the fucking goblins tell me that Harry Potter is only presumed dead. That his soul is intact, and that it survives. Absolute nonsense."

Harry's mind was racing. Could it be this simple? "My Lord, how would the goblins know?"

"Magic," replied Charlus, spitting the word like a curse.

Harry looked the wizard in the eye. He could always remove its memories if this proved to be a mistake. "What if he did live, somehow? What then?"

Charlus looked at him, his eyes narrowing. "If Harry's spirit was out there, it never returned home." He shook his head. "But if he did, somehow, walk through that door, then he would be Lord Potter, and our family might yet survive."

Harry watched as Charlus fought the urge to hope. He had wallowed in despair for too long.

"Let me tell you a story, my Lord." Harry began, sitting down in one of the leather chairs. Charlus sat down on a stool, one that somehow remained level despite the sands of Omaha beach underneath his feet.

"When Voldemort went to Godric's Hollow to attack the Potters, he prepared two rituals. One would take the boy's magical power and add it to his own. The other would use his cold blooded murder as a catalyst for the creation of a horcrux." Charlus cringed at the idea of a horcrux, even more than he had cringed at the name of the Dark Lord. "The first ritual, he did because he was a greedy piece of shit for whom the whole world would not be enough to sate his hunger for power. This, we knew. The second, though - that was the Dark Lord's greatest secret. For he made not one of these craven artifacts, but six."

"Six?!"

"Six." Harry confirmed. He sipped his tea, smiling. "The death of Harry Potter would have created the seventh. But see how he failed. When he attacked Harry Potter that night, his rituals met a third, when the curse was actually fired. Lily Potter protected her son with a runic array designed to deflect the killing curse. But such an array would be inadequate, unless it was fueled by a very powerful sacrifice." He watched Charlus carefully.

"No." The horror spread across the old wizard's face. "No she didn't."

"She did. Lily Potter willingly gave her life in defense of her son. And that sacrifice created a protection around the boy."

"Then, where did he go?"

Harry stood, pacing in front of the portrait. "Sacrifices are powerful. Such was her love for her son that her death subverted not one ritual, but two. When Voldemort attacked, instead of breaking his own soul, he made himself into a horcrux." His voice grew quiet. "The soul of Harry Potter was rescued from death by his mother's protection. And it latched onto the only living being nearby."

Utter horror crossed the man's face. "No, it's not possible."

"Yes, Harry Potter's intact soul was grafted onto the fragmentary, broken soul of Voldemort. But we still have that killing curse to sort out, don't we?" Harry shook his head. "The boy died, his body crumbling to ash, and his soul latched onto that of the Dark Lord. And then the killing curse rebounded, striking that Dark Lord and annihilating him."

"So, he did die?" Charlus caught himself. "No, of course not, the horcruxes. But then, how?"

"How did he survive? He already had six of the cursed things, remember. His soul, or what remained of it, subsisted as a wraith, a spirit thing. And it carried the intact soul of a fifteen months old boy."

"Merlin," said Charlus. In the dim light of the study, with the fireplace growing low, Harry could see the troubled expression on the man's face.

"The spirit of the Dark Lord made its way to Albania, where it lingered for a time, possessing small animals and snakes and such. And the entire time, the spirit of Harry Potter watched and listened. He learned about magic, about how to control it and make it bend to his will. He learned about Voldemort and his history, his goals, his methods. And he waited."

Harry's voice was barely a whisper now. "Then, one day, one of the death eaters found his master, and together they devised a ritual to create a human form to house the spirit of Voldemort. A great tournament was held, and the champion from that tournament - a seventh year Hufflepuff named Cedric Diggory - was taken to a ritual site."

"There, they took the bones of Voldemort's father, the hand of his servant, and the forcibly taken blood of his enemy, Cedric Diggory, whose family opposed him. If successful, Voldemort would rise and lay waste to Wizarding Britain." Harry grinned. "Instead, Harry Potter reached out, and touched the Dark Lord's servant with the imperius curse. He forced an oath, making the man his servant as well as Voldemort's. He made the servant use the bones of James Potter, instead of the muggle man who sired the Dark Lord." Charlus looked up at that, but said nothing.

"And finally, with a burst of magic, Harry asked Cedric Diggory to give his blood willingly. When he did that, the ritual shifted, and now they were resurrecting the intact soul and not the broken one."

Charlus looked at Harry, as if seeing him for the first time. "It's you, isn't it?"

Harry smiled, showing the head of house ring he had salvaged three weeks prior. "I am Harry Potter, grandfather."

oOoOoOoOo

Darkness had fallen before their conversation turned to more immediate concerns.

"Fourteen years as a spirit," said Charlus. "Merlin, it's a wonder you didn't go mad."

Harry snorted at that. "Who says I haven't?" He took a sip of his tea and considered the question. "I have nightmares, grandfather, such as you would not believe. I have his memories, I remember things he did, tortures he devised, and I want to claw my eyes out of my skull." He flexed his hands, as if testing them for function. "For so many years, I dreamed of being alive again, seeing a sunrise, breathing in the air, living life."

He stood now, spinning around for his grandfather, the long coat flaring behind him. "And now, I'm alive. My soul is almost fifteen, my body is maybe twenty-five or so, but I feel like I'm the seventy years that Voldemort had." He ran a hand through his dark hair. "I was never really even a child before I died, and now I'm all grown up. I can barely function."

Charlus did not look unsympathetic, but he would not coddle his grandson. "There's a but here, I think."

Harry rubbed his eyes. "But, I feel like I'm drowning, like everything threatens to overwhelm me, and all I want to do is curl up into a ball and weep at the pain of it all." He looked up, his eyes meeting those of the portrait. "And part of me, small though it may be, wonders why I escaped in the first place."

"You're not alone, Harry." Charlus meant to reassure the boy, but Harry misinterpreted his meaning. The look of anger on his face worried Charlus, especially the bright green eyes that flickered over to red for an instant.

"Don't you think I know that?!" Harry almost shouted. "Voldemort enslaved a woman, who sits in a guest room trapped in her snake form, waiting for me to revive her. I have an entire wizarding world who trembles at the mention of Voldemort and reveres my memory - what will they think when they hear my tale, grandfather? Resurrected in a dark ritual, slayer of death eaters, hunter of dark artifacts?" He scoffed. "The Prophet will crucify me."

"And don't forget the best part, Charlus Potter." Harry lifted his fringe, pointing at the angry, serpentine scar on his forehead. "What remained of the Dark Lord is trapped IN MY FUCKING HEAD!" Harry was shouting now, and did not notice the elf pop into the room behind him. Nor did he notice Dobby's trembling.

Charlus Potter said nothing.

"If I lose my focus for one moment, and this soul fragment takes control? Voldemort returns. If I die again before I destroy his horcruxes, Voldemort returns. If a death eater stuns me and realizes what happened, Voldemort returns. If Albus Dumbledore decides that I'm a dark wizard, and goes after me? Voldemort returns." Harry quieted down, starting to catch his breath. Charlus saw, at the boy's feet, that a large python had wrapped itself around his legs.

"Well, then," said Charlus. "I suppose you'll have to make sure that none of that happens."

Harry looked at the portrait, incredulously, but said nothing. Charlus heard the snake hissing softly, only to see Harry look down and hiss back. Whatever the snake was doing, it seemed to have a calming effect on his grandson.

"I swore on my life, Grandfather, that I would see the remains of Voldemort removed from the face of the earth." He looked up with determination in his green eyes. "I meant it."

Charlus considered his words, then smiled to himself. "You would do the honourable thing, then. To see that it is done?"

Harry collapsed back into the leather chair. "This creature destroyed so many families, on both sides of the war. I saw him torture his own soldiers, kill the families of his own people, just because they disagreed with his false supremacy." He shook his head. "He killed my parents. He killed me." He rolled his neck and shoulders, feeling the muscles stretch and flex, the fatigue seeping into him. "Yes, grandfather, I will see that it is done."

"Good." Charlus nodded, approvingly. "Then tonight, you will rest. You will take a potion of dreamless sleep. At midday, when you finally awaken, you will eat a full breakfast."

Harry nodded, too tired to argue. "And then?"

"And then, Lord Potter, we plan."

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ **This story follows on from _Inside Man_ and _Inside Woman_ , and the Harry Potter and Nagini here are the same characters from those works. How Harry deals with his new situation - a Lord with seventy years of experience in the dark arts, fifteen months of life as a person, and close to fifteen years literally in the mind of his killer - will be the focus as we move forward, though Nagini will have some adjustments to make as well. **

**Updates will come sporadically, as they come to me. This will be a slow-moving story, as far as my pace will go. If you want something updated on the regular, please have a look at Harry Potter, et al, and the Keystone Council.**

 **To the Discords: Someday, y'all are gonna hate me. Until then, enjoy.**

 **Feedback, as always, is welcome.**


	2. Plans and Rituals

Harry Potter had had one goal, ever since his mind had evolved to the point that he could even have goals - the end of Voldemort. Protecting Nagini had been a mere act of self-defense, at first, because he could not afford any interruption in his plans. Even protecting Cedric Diggory had been a means to an end - he cared little for the boy, except as a messenger. Years of anger, it seems, had compounded themselves in him. Now that he was himself, without that voice slithering in his mind, he found that he did not like what remained.

Charlus set him straight. Or started to. Harry had two goals, and two goals only.

The Mission. And the Man.

The Mission, of course, was the end of Voldemort. And that meant the end of the horcruxes. The Gaunt Ring, in his old family home. The Shield of Gryffindor, at Ballyquintin Point. The Diadem of Ravenclaw, at Hogwarts. Hufflepuff's Cup, in the depths of Gringott's. Slytherin's Locket, in its oceanside cave. The Riddle Diary, in its hiding place in Hogsmeade.

The hubris of the man was displayed in full, when Harry and Charlus examined the list. Voldemort had exerted his dominance on every major wizarding place, excluding the Ministry. Hogwarts and Hogsmeade both, because he could strike you where you were safest. Gringott's, because even Diagon Alley was not safe. Flee to Ireland? He's there, too. Attack him where he lives? He waits. Seek out his history, and an army of infiri lay in wait.

The shield galled Charlus the most. Voldemort had hidden it in the top of an old druidic obelisk at Ballyquintin Point, in Northern Ireland. It sat along the coast, and thousands of tourists wandered the grassy paths every year. The bastard had had the stones to hide a priceless wizarding artifact (and a piece of his bloody _soul_ ) in plain sight, fifty feet in the air.

How many muggles posed for pictures in front of that old stone tower, not realizing that their holiday snaps included part of the most feared Dark Lord in living memory? Charlus remained appalled at the notion.

Harry knew how to access each location, the words and spells he would need to overcome the defenses of each item. He had the memories of hiding them, after all. Gathering them would not be trivial, but he would be able to get it done relatively quickly, once he began.

Gather them together, bring them to an altar hidden away along the coast, on one of the Potter's holdings, and destroy the soul fragments within. Then perform the banishing ritual, excising the remnant from the scar he now wore, and - with no anchor - the remaining soul would go, simply, on. Mission Accomplished.

oOoOoOoOo

The second task before his grandson would be the more difficult, Charlus thought. Harry had to learn how to be Harry. He was now a man, having barely been a boy. He was the Lord Potter, and would have responsibilities if he chose to take them up, but the most important part was that he became comfortable being Harry Potter first.

The occasional flashes of despair in his grandson, the sadness on his face, gave Charlus pause. Harry had a long way to go.

Once the horcrux plan was laid out across the table, Charlus had nodded. "So, what then?"

Harry looked up at the portrait. "What do you mean, what then?"

Charlus sighed. "You are still young, Lord Potter. You have wealth, preserved and managed by the Goblins in preparation for your return. You have a home, if you wish it, or other holdings if you do not. You have Dobby and Winky, both of whom will happily see to your comfort." Charlus gestured up at the ceiling, indicating the guest rooms above. "And you have your companion, who will surely need your aid for a time." Charlus looked down at his grandson. "Simply put, what happens after your war ends?"

Harry sat back in his chair, a blank expression on his face. "I never really considered that."

"May I ask why not?"

Harry shook his head. "Part of me never really expected to be free, I think. The fact that a hijacked ritual worked at all, well, that's nothing short of miraculous." He flexed his hands, as he seemed to do frequently when he was thinking. "I never really gave the future much thought, Grandfather."

Charlus smiled at him. "Would you rebuild House Potter?"

The look of horror on his grandson's face got him laughing. After all, at his core, Harry had the soul of a near fifteen-year-old boy. His laugh brought a grin to Harry's face as well, covering his embarrassment.

"Would that even work, I wonder? After all, I do have Cedric's blood in my veins."

Charlus considered that. "When we speak with the Goblins, perhaps they can shed some light on that question."

"Perhaps."

Again, Charlus indicated the guest rooms. "And your companion? You said something about tonight being the night."

Harry nodded. "The potion is ready, and Nagini is resting now. When the sun sets, I will administer the draught and begin the ritual."

"And this is the ritual Voldemort planned for her?" asked Charlus.

"Yes. He knew what she was the instant his mind brushed against hers. Had none of his followers found him, he would have ambushed her and enslaved her will somehow. Then he would have possessed her and imperiused someone into helping with the ritual, or gone hunting for one of his followers - a much easier task for Nagini than for whatever snake he possessed." Harry sat back. "Nagini is a much more powerful witch than Wormtail is a wizard, magically. I would not have been able to sabotage the ritual if she had been performing it."

"So otherwise, he would have left her a snake? And a Horcrux to boot?"

Harry had given this question a lot of thought. "I think, if she had been turned into a Horcrux, that she would have been completely enslaved to his will. Even if he turned her back into a human, she would have been his creature. Voldemort could have restored her at will, and probably would have done so if he saw the need. Leaving her trapped as a snake was another means of control." He shook his head. "And if he had succeeded and made her a Horcrux, and it had taken over completely? There would essentially be a copy of him inside of her."

Charlus nodded. Such a result would have been disastrous. "Very well, then, Lord Potter." He smiled at Harry's grimace - he was not yet used to the title. "Rest this afternoon. And good luck tonight."

"Yes, grandfather." Harry said, before going to his rooms for a brief nap. The morning's discussion had been tiring, its subject an emotional one. When the scope of Voldemort's depravity was laid out in full, the overall picture was that of unmitigated evil. Just discussing it was exhausting.

Once Harry was gone, Charlus spoke quietly. "Dobby?"

The elf popped into the room. "Yes, Grandpa Charlus, sir?" That got a chuckle from the portrait. Dobby frowned a bit. "Should wes be calling you something different, sirs? Master Harry said you'd prefer that name, sir."

"He did, did he?" Charlus grinned. "Well, we can keep it for now. Dobby, I need you to make sure there is a portrait frame in Nagini's room. When you do, come tell me which one it is."

"Yes sir. May Dobby ask why?"

"Of course, young elf," replied Charlus. "Harry and Nagini will be performing a ritual this evening, and I want to be able to watch over them."

Dobby bowed his head. "Dead Grandpa Charlus Sir is a good Grandpa."

That got another laugh. "I do try."

oOoOoOoOo

Nagini looked up as Harry entered her room. He was wearing loose ceremonial robes, of the sort one wore during the performance of rituals. In one hand, he carried a silvery potion. In the other, he carried the yew wand of her…. of Voldemort.

She still found herself thinking of him as her master, though that thought seemed to come to her less and less as the days passed. They had spoken at length, on all manner of topics - her history, her travels, her battles against Grindelwald. At every turn, he emphasized how much more experience she had than he, how much he admired her and her accomplishments. He praised her for her decision to embrace the change on her own terms, despite the pain of it.

He tried to hammer home the point that she was her own master - not him. Never him. She was not convinced - there was never a favor of this magnitude given for free.

Harry had chuckled at that. "Then when you are healed, we will discuss whatever debt you think you owe me. But I tell you now, Nagini, that it is I who owe you a debt. One that I can never hope to repay."

"I doubt that, Mas… Harry." Nagini replied.

Harry had frowned at the slip. "Believe it." He knelt beside her head, holding up the potion. "If you are ready, I need you to give me a sample of your venom."

She looked at him for a long moment, as if deciding whether to proceed. Then she bared her fangs and hooked them over the edge of the phial. The pale green fluid dripped into the potion, turning it a deep green of its own.

Harry nodded. As the potion set, he looked Nagini in the eyes. "Once this begins, it is important that you allow your magic to react to the ritual. Do not resist, or I don't know what will happen."

Nagini slowly nodded at that. She did not like the risk, despite her high hopes for success. At this point, if Harry said it was worth it, she would make the attempt. "What must I do?"

"When I give the word, you must close your eyes and visualize yourself as you once were, so long ago. Visualize your human form, your face, your eyes, your hair, everything. Hold that image in your mind, hold that form close to your magic." Harry ran a hand across the scales of her neck. "You will feel an itch, behind your eyes, an itch that you have to scratch. An itch that demands every bit of your attention. You must hold your form in your mind, and then use your magic to trigger your transformation."

Nagini would have laughed at that, if she had the nerve. "That simple?"

Harry nodded. "That simple. The hard part is mine."

She tilted her head up at him. "What will you be doing?"

He rolled his shoulders, as if preparing. "I will be removing the curse from you, bit by bit. You will know when I succeed - that's what the itch will signify."

With one last brush against her scales, Harry stood up and walked to the edge of the circle, seven feet from the center, where she lay coiled. He knelt before her, gathering his robe loosely around him. His eyes met hers once more. "Are you ready, Nagini?"

She nodded.

"Then open your mouth, and drink the potion." Wandlessly, he levitated the phial to her mouth, tilting it just enough to allow the fluid within to trickle forward. Snakes, as it turned out, were rubbish at drinking from bottles like this one. Nagini drank the potion, feeling it burn as it worked its way through her snake form. The room felt like it was swaying slightly, and had she been standing on feet she was sure she would have been dizzy.

"We begin." said Harry, simply. He raised his wand, moving it in an intricate pattern. She ignored his quiet chant, noticing only that it was in Arabic. A warm glow found her tail end, and began to move up her length. It did not hurt, there was no pain - it felt like she was shedding, if nothing else.

Her skin began to grow uncomfortable, as if she was scraping against rocks or some other rough surface without shedding. It was not an itch, nor was it behind her eyes - but the human part of her, deep within, wanted badly to scratch. Nagini began to worry - how much more intense would this become?

The glow was approaching her midsection by now, and the irritation was growing. Harry's chant had grown quieter, reduced now to the repetition of a phrase. His eyes were closed, but his wand continued to move in that same pattern. Nagini fought the urge to panic - the only thing stopping her was the feel of Harry's magic, following right behind the glow. It soothed her, somewhat - not enough to truly calm her, but enough to keep her still.

At three quarters of her length, the glow stopped. It was close enough to her head that she could not get a good view of it, but she knew instantly that something had happened. Harry's chanting changed, and she heard an echo of his voice in her mind.

" _Out, cursed thing, out"_ his voice said. Her heart beat faster, and she felt panic rising. This was it. " _Leave her or be turned within,"_ he said. Her heart was racing now, and she felt a burning sensation.

Harry spoke, then. "So I say, so I swear!" She did not know what had happened, but the burning intensified. Nagini felt dizzy again, and realized that she had been holding her breath. Her mind burned, the pain grew. Her lungs ached.

Her mind… no, it didn't burn. It itched. It itched!

Nagini remembered, as she never had before. The woman standing before her, in her mind's eye, smiled softly at her. Her dark hair fell to the middle of her back, long and straight. Her dark eyes seemed to soften as they gazed back at her, though never totally. The long, thin scar across her cheek and neck told the tale - this was Nagini after the wars, after the battles. After the losses.

She had been proud of her beauty, taking the scars as trophies rather than wounds. But today was a day of rebirth, and when she thought of herself, did she see the battle-hardened woman before her?

In her mind, the woman's hair shortened, falling lightly around her un-scarred neck. Her skin smoothed, her eyes lost some of their hardness - though not all, for the circus had never been a truly happy place. But it had been happier than the alternative, as the woman's smile seemed to attest.

Nagini, the woman, looked into the eyes of Nagini, the serpent. Her smile grew wider, radiating joy.

"It is time." The woman said, in light tones Nagini thought she would never hear again. It was the voice she spoke with in her own mind, the voice she heard when she dreamed her impossible dreams.

The woman began her dance, just as Nagini drew upon her magic and will to shift forms. She felt her tail shorten, then split. She felt bones knitting together, felt her muscles slide forward or backward along her length. She felt her venom leave her, her fangs retract. She felt pain across her back, and realized that she had shoulders again.

She opened her eyes, and realized that she had reared up in her delirium. When she shifted, she found herself standing, her knees shaking, her hands wrapped around her stomach. She did not notice her nakedness.

She saw Harry Potter standing before her, shaking, his face and hair drenched in sweat. His wand lay on the ground. An elf stood behind him, and had already conjured or summoned a low couch. His eyes opened, those emerald eyes, and they met hers. He did not look at her, did not see her body - his eyes only saw _her._

"Nagini," he said, in a whisper of awe.

She tried to take a step forward. Her feet ached, as if they had not been used in decades. Which, of course, they had not. She felt her knee give way, felt herself begin to topple. She realized then that she was still dizzy, still unsteady.

In an instant, his arms were around her, catching her, holding her up. "Nagini," he said again. His eyes grew wide in wonder as he looked at her smiling face.

"Harry," she said. Then her eyes closed, and she knew no more.

oOoOoOoOo

Charlus watched as Harry lifted Nagini into a bridal carry and moved her to the couch Dobby had prepared. It was not a bed, but the elf had grabbed the nearest piece of furniture he had at hand, and that had been it. If she remained stable, Harry would move her to the next room and a bed of her own.

"Congratulations, Harry," said the old portrait.

Harry looked over, seeing his grandfather for the first time. Nodding, he smiled. "Thank you, sir."

Charlus looked at the sleeping Nagini. "Did it work as you planned? She seems well."

Harry, too, looked at the sleeping woman. He waved his wand at her, performing diagnostic charms. Everything indicated that the ritual had worked as he had planned. With a satisfied nod, Harry turned back to his grandfather.

"Mostly. When I found the curse, it was around her heart - the most critical organ. I believe that was deliberate, as it's a blood curse - almost any attempt to remove it triggers a heart attack." He smiled. "So I didn't remove it."

Charlus blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"I reversed it, grandfather. I tried to force the curse out, but it would not budge - so I forced it to reverse itself and allow the change once more. It still lies within her, but attached to her third vertebra. It will never touch her blood again. The curse dies with her."

"And her children?" Charlus almost chuckled when Harry blushed slightly - he was, at heart, a fifteen year old, after all.

"It will not pass to them." Harry was firm and sure, which reassured his grandfather.

"So, if the curse remains, how did she change?"

Harry grinned. "It was the potion. I used a version of the animagus potion to force the change, but in reverse. Technically, she is a snake with a human animagus form. But functionally?" Harry looked back to the sleeping woman. "She's herself again."

"An animagus," Charlus said, to himself. "So she can shift back?"

Harry nodded. "At will. Her body is her own, now." He sighed, conjuring a chair for himself. "And will be, for the rest of her life."

Charlus watched over the pair that night, smiling when Dobby brought a blanket and a footrest for Harry. His grandson had succumbed to fatigue, and finally fallen asleep.

Harry Potter had no nightmares, that night. It was the first such night since his resurrection.


	3. Identity

Nagini woke up to find herself in a bed. The sheets were luxurious, more comfortable than anything she had felt before. The covers seemed to wrap her in exactly the right amount of warmth. And the pillows seemed to embrace her and comfort her with a soft and gentle touch.

She knew nothing of the elf magic that charmed the blankets to the perfect temperature, or that added calming charms to the pillow. She just knew that this had been the most restful night's sleep of her life.

The sun was streaming in through the windows, and part of her mind told her that it must be approaching midday. She yawned, and the motion felt alien to her - it was as if her jaw was wrong, somehow. It took her long moments to remember how much more flexible her bite had been as a snake. Somehow, it did not feel like a loss.

I could get used to this, she thought, as she stretched her legs and arms out in a tired motion.

A movement across the room drew her gaze, and she sat up in surprise. There, sitting in a comfortable looking chair, his bare feet propped up on a footrest of some sort, was Harry Potter. He was wrapped in a blanket, and his hair suggested that he had spent the night in that position. As if he had been watching over her.

The soft pop of a house elf drew Nagini's eyes to the side of the bed. It was the male one - Dobby, she thought his name was.

"Good morning, Mistress Naginis, ma'am. Master Harry Potter Sir wanted to be awakened before you got out of bed, to watch over you." The elf's eyes seemed kind and accepting, where before the ritual they had merely been polite and cautious. It helped, she guessed, that she could no longer swallow the elf in one bite.

Nagini glanced over at the sleeping wizard, before pulling the blankets tighter around her.

"Dobby," she said, smiling to herself at the sound of her voice - just as she remembered it. "I'm not wearing anything."

The elf smiled up at her. "Master be thinking about that, Mistress. He said to give you a set of robes when you wake up." With a snap of the elf's fingers, Nagini found herself wrapped in a set of dark green robes. They were simple but elegant, adorned only in a small version of the crest of House Potter.

She was looking down at the new robes, the first clothes she had worn in over forty years, when she heard a chuckle from across the room. Her eyes shot up, and she saw Harry Potter grinning at her.

"Dobby was right, green suits you." he said, the amusement plain in his voice.

"Your elf is wise indeed," she replied, again fighting the urge to add master to the end of the sentence.

Harry saw her catch herself again, and sighed. That would be a hard habit to break, and he knew it would take time. He stretched himself out, before rising to his feet. "Well, Nagini, how would you like to learn how to walk?"

A rush of emotion shot through her. How she had longed to walk! But with it came fear, for she remembered how unsteady she had been the night before, stumbling forward into Harry's arms. Nothing for it, she thought, as she pushed herself to the edge of the bed. She looked back to Harry, and saw that he was walking around the bed toward her, still wearing the loose robes from the previous evening.

Nagini took a deep breath, and then held up her hand. Harry paused, still in arm's reach. He smiled, but still asked the question.

"Are you sure?"

She looked up and met his green eyes with her dark brown ones. She could see the concern there, but there was also trust - he was willing to let her do this. How could she let him down? She gave him a firm nod.

"Here we go." She said quietly. Slowly, she slid forward on the bed, letting her feet touch the thick rug. The motion carried her forward, and she found herself standing - the bed was just tall enough to put her on her feet. Part of her wondered if Dobby had set it up that way.

She raised her arms, keeping them out for balance. Eyes on the far wall, she took a halting step forward. And stayed up! Leaning into her forward foot, she took another step. And another. She knew Harry was walking alongside her, but did not dare look.

Her fifth step brought her halfway to the wall, and to the bathroom door nearby. Her soft smile had become a grin. "Am I dreaming?" she wondered.

"No, it's real, you're walking Nagini," replied Harry, and Nagini realized that she had spoken out loud.

Another few steps, and she placed a hand on the wall. She had done it. She even managed to turn to face Harry. His face lit up at her expression, and she raised her arms in triumph. The motion put her out of balance, however, and only placing her hands back on the wall kept her upright.

Like last night, Harry was at her side in an instant.

"I'm fine, I'm good. Just getting used to everything again." She said, off his concerned look. Then she met his eyes again. "Now what?" Again he heard the briefest hint of an "Mas…" at the end of her question. And as before, he ignored it.

"Now, you freshen up, and we have lunch together."

Nagini's eyes grew wide - she had no interest in tackling stairs just yet. "Downstairs?"

Harry smiled. "Not if you don't want to."

oOoOoOoOo

They shared a light lunch, not in the dining room or spread out on the bed, but sitting in chairs beside a small table in her room. Harry, having finished first, was looking at two letters.

Nagini took her time eating, as she wanted to savor the flavors before her. She found that her sense of taste was not as diminished as she had feared it would be, and realized for the first time that she had worried about something that minor, compared to the rest of her problems.

She found that she enjoyed chewing her food once again. Swallowing everything whole was overrated, as it turned out.

Harry's look of worry caught Nagini's attention. "Problems?" she asked.

He looked over to her. "Perhaps. The goblins want to meet with me, which means going to Diagon Alley. But they addressed the letter to 'Lord Potter', so I don't know if they just know that someone has the ring, or if they know about me, or what have you."

She took a drink of her water, considering that. "And you worry that they are really asking to speak to the Dark Lord."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe."

Nagini leaned forward a bit, watching him. "Eventually, though, you'll have to know where you stand. And, more importantly, where magic thinks you stand."

His hand went up, and she saw the golden ring there. "Magic thinks that I'm old enough to be Lord Potter. Whether that's because I'm last of the line, or because it used Voldemort's age, or whether it used this body's age, I don't know. And you're right, I need to know."

Harry set the letter down, before taking a sip of his tea. Nagini continued to watch him. Finally, she could wait no longer. "And the second letter?"

He handed it to her, and watched her expression as she read its contents. The missive was also addressed to Lord Potter, and was very brief. For all that, there was much left unsaid.

 _9 July 1995_

 _Lord Potter_  
 _Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter_

 _To All Whom These Presents Come, Greetings,_

 _It is urgent that I speak with you about a matter concerning both of our houses, and the safety thereof. While your house has undoubtedly done my own a great service, and I acknowledge that service, it is equally clear that there is much still to be discussed about the events of that night in the graveyard._

 _We, you and I, must come to a consensus about where we stand - and about our next steps, if any. My son speaks well of you, and I have found him to be an excellent judge of character. In that spirit, I invite you to meet with my son and I at Gringotts, on a date and at a time of your choosing._

 _In blood,_

 _Amos Diggory_  
 _21st Lord of the Noble House of Diggory_  
 _Director of Law, Ministry of Magic_

"He knows everything, it would seem." said Nagini.

Harry nodded. "Yet he addressed the letter as if he didn't know who would read it. If he were not Director of the Law Department, he probably would have just put 'To whom it may concern,' and left it be."

"Possibly," she conceded. "I doubt you want to meet with him today, though, not on your first trip to the bank."

He shook his head. "No, today will be busy enough without that. I will reply, though, and suggest a meeting in a few weeks." He looked back down at the letter. "I plan to have an inheritance test done today. That might give me some answers, at least. Answers that I will need before meeting with Lord Diggory."

She nodded. "Wisely done, m…. Maybe I will do the same." She caught his look at the near-slip, and pressed on before he could speak. "I should have at least one old vault, tucked away in Gringotts Zürich. Maybe it is still available."

One eyebrow went up. "Zürich?"

Nagini nodded, sipping her water. "Once the war ended, I never really left Eastern Europe. Even during the upheavals, I stayed in the region for close to a decade. Only when the change started to enforce its will did I consider leaving, and even then I did it on my own terms."

He did not reply. They had discussed her history before, though she glossed over her time before and during Grindelwald's war. Having seen Voldemort's memories of the blood war, Harry knew exactly why she did not want to talk about it. He wouldn't either.

"That is," she said with a smile, "If you want to allow this old woman to accompany you, My Lord."

Harry graced her comment with an eye roll.

oOoOoOoOo

Diagon Alley was very nearly too much for Harry and Nagini.

For Harry, it was a stark reminder that he had probably never in his life been around this many people. He and his parents went into hiding before he would have been old enough to visit the shops, and before that there was a war on. Nagini, meanwhile, had not been in a city since that long day in December, six years prior, when she unwittingly found herself in the middle of the Romanian Revolution. She had fled the soldiers and gunfire, and went to live in the forests of Southeastern Europe.

Harry was wearing his black longcoat and gloves, his long hair glamoured to a sandy blonde. He kept it in a top knot, however, as he usually did. Some minor glamours completed the look.

Nagini wore a green hooded cloak and walked with a staff. It was no magical staff, but rather a simple muggle walking stick. She had walked up and down the hallways, growing her confidence - but it would do no one any good for her to trip on the steps of the bank. Walking slowly hinted at an injury. That, coupled with a few subtle notice-me-nots, did the trick.

Gringotts was quiet on this midsummer afternoon, which gave harry time to marvel at the main floor of the bank. Voldemort's memories had showed him nearly every important location in Wizarding Britain - except the Goblin bank. As a youth, Tom Riddle had never trusted the goblins - and by the time he may have had need, his reputation (and identify as a Dark Lord) prevented him from availing himself of the goblins' services.

Tom had always coveted a vault in the bank, never thinking to see if the Gaunts had left anything behind for him. His claim to being the Heir of Slytherin was a political move, intended to solidify power and prestige - he had never expected that the House of Slytherin might have a vault he could take.

Those of his followers with deep, secure vaults were valued. Regulus and Bellatrix had both been groomed with an eye to taking over the Black vaults, should it become necessary. Lucius seemed to be able to rub two galleons together and find a third, and he put those galleons to work. And then there were the others, all of whom had pledged their lives and fortunes to his great work.

Harry smiled a bit at that memory - in pledging their houses to Voldemort, the death eaters had doomed themselves and their lines. All was fair in a blood feud - and Harry had no blood to target, save his own. If he chose, he could end the death eater lines, root and stem.

In one of his darker moments, he had considered doing precisely that. Charlus had reasoned with him, aided by the fact that Harry really didn't want to become the man he hated so completely. Executing families was Voldemort's path - not fit for a son of the House of Potter. He had spent his life promising himself never to be like Voldemort, even before he had grown his mind enough to understand the depth of that promise. Now that he was standing here, healthy and whole, it was time to put his galleons where his mouth was.

Nagini tapped her staff on the stone floor of the bank, getting his attention once more. She had given him time for his moment, but now they were being beckoned into an office by an old goblin in a suit. Harry shook his head, clearing his mind, before walking forward to join her.

Once in the office, the goblin pointed at two chairs across from his desk. They took their seats, as the goblin pulled his paperwork. Once he was seated, the old goblin looked at the witch and wizard before him. Then he spoke, with a deep, rasping voice.

"My name is Felgazim, of the Clan Thotgrim. I am the account manager for foreign holdings, and I will be working with you today." The goblin sneered at the pair when they shared a look - they had not expected this.

Pulling a parchment from his desk, Felgazim looked at Nagini. "You will want to go first, I think." Nagini responded with a nod. "Good, place your wand hand on the parchment." She did so, looking nervous. The parchment felt warm beneath her hand. After a moment, the goblin nodded. "That will do."

When she removed her hand, it left an imprint on the parchment. Slowly, the imprint faded, only to be replaced by lines of goblin script. When Harry saw the goblin's eyebrow raise, he knew they had found something interesting.

Presently, the writing stopped. Felgazim reviewed the information, nodding to himself, before placing the parchment back on the desk. "If you will give me a moment, I will retrieve your items." The goblin stood, and then placed a hand on the parchment, almost as an afterthought. As he walked out of the office, Harry saw that the parchment had been translated.

Nagini had braced herself for a shock. She did not expect it on the first line.

 _ **Inheritance Test for the Lady Nagini Francesca Von Richter, Heiress Apparent of the Ancient House of Richter**_

"Von Richter?" asked Harry. Clearly, Nagini recognized the name, but the fact that she was heiress to the house seemed to be what had shocked her. Slowly, Nagini nodded. Harry watched her as she read the parchment, saying nothing. If she wanted to tell the tale, she would.

After finishing the document, Nagini closed her eyes and sighed. "Günter, you foolish bastard," she muttered.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked. Nagini looked over at him, and gave him a smile.

"Felgazim will, hopefully, explain what this means," she began. "After the war, I stayed in what became Eastern Germany. There, I met a young man named Günter Von Richter, only son of an old German wizarding family. He had left his professor's job at Durmstrang rather than stand with Grindelwald, and ended up running an allied field hospital for the muggles. We became friends after he returned to his home in Dresden."

"In the spring of 1951, a group of Russian soldiers decided to go for a walk. They saw a teenager walking down the street, and invited her to join them. The girl, Francesca Von Richter, declined. The muggles did not take no for an answer." Nagini's voice grew quiet as her eyes got a faraway look. "Günter vowed to hunt the soldiers down. He resolved to gather his cousins and some of the veterans who lived nearby, and go dispense justice on behalf of his dead sister."

Her eyes closed, and Harry could hear the pain in her voice, as she remembered. "In the early morning, when the men approached the barracks, they found nothing but dead bodies strewn everywhere." Now, she opened her eyes and met Harry's concerned gaze. "It seemed that an entire unit had been bitten by snakes overnight."

Harry placed his hand on hers, trying to offer some comfort. From her stories of her past, he knew her to be slow to trust - but once she had let someone in, she would be fiercely loyal. She had grown up with no family, just a rotating cast of misfits in a circus. Always, she had longed for a true family, and had almost found it in her companions during the war.

To have harmed a girl she clearly saw as a little sister? Harry was shocked that the bodies had been intact at all.

Nagini gave his hand a squeeze in thanks, before withdrawing her own. While she gathered herself to continue the tale, they heard Felgazim's voice from the doorway.

"Mister Von Richter never confirmed what happened that night, according to our records." The goblin took his seat, continuing the tale. "But shortly thereafter, Miss Nagini, no middle name, no last name, was adopted into the Ancient House of Von Richter. With the passing of his sister, and later his father, Günter became the Lord of the House - but also its last son, as he was unable to father children." Nagini placed a hand on her mouth at that - she hadn't known her friend's fate.

"In 1982, Lord Von Richter learned that his adopted sister's vault was still active - which meant that his old friend Nagini was still alive." Felgazim produced a letter, placing it on the desk in front of Nagini. "He named you his Heiress. When he passed away not long after that, you became the Heiress Apparent."

Harry's eyes went to the small wooden box, now understanding what Felgazim had needed to retrieve. The Lady's ring.

Nagini shook her head again. "Dammit, Günter," she said. Then she looked at the goblin. "I will take up the Lady's ring, Felgazim."

oOoOoOoOo

Harry's test was more straightforward, and yet for every question it answered, it opened another.

He was indeed recognized by magic (and, thus, by Gringotts) as Harry James Potter, son of James and Lily Potter. He was confirmed as the Lord Potter, as magic had already consented to the headship when it allowed him the ring. His birthdate was accurate, but his age was a mishmash of nonsense.

"Lord Potter, at some point our elders will want to learn exactly how you managed to return to us," said Felgazim. "Magic detected that you survived in spirit form, but gave no hint as to method or means."

The goblin clearly meant it as a question, but got no answers from Harry. "I am unclear on some of the details myself, Felgazim," Harry replied. "I would not object to a meeting with the elders, though, once I have had time to settle into my new life."

"As you say," said the goblin. "Very well, since you have your lordship, you are officially emancipated, though I suspect you knew that." Harry nodded, chuckling. "How you deal with the ministry will be important, and we can assist you with some of that paperwork. They declared you dead in 1981, but we disputed it. Ultimately, they sealed all records of our dispute and tabled the matter - indefinitely."

"Why?" Harry asked, before he put the pieces together. "They didn't need me to be alive. If I was not declared dead, they'd have every witch and wizard who could get their hands on a black haired baby with green eyes saying they had found little Harry."

Nagini looked horrified at the thought. "The public probably saw the initial declaration, and ignored the dispute later." She shrugged. "That's what would have happened in my day."

"Little has changed, Lady Von Richter," said the goblin. "It happened almost exactly as you say."

Harry's eyes continued down the page, until he saw a line he had feared.

 _ **Son of the Noble House of Diggory (Blood Adoption, Cadet Line)**_

"Can a blood adoption be undone, Felgazim?" asked Harry.

The goblin looked at him incredulously. "Not usually. That's part of why they are used so rarely. Did you not consent to the adoption?"

Now it was Harry's turn to close his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose. "No, Felgazim, I did not. But the donor did, and it was part of a ritual over which I had very limited control, so… honestly, I don't know."

The goblin nodded. "It may be wise to meet with Lord Diggory."

Another nod. "I plan to do exactly that."

"Good," said Felgazim.

After reviewing account balances and vaults, and retrieving a bag of galleons, Harry's business was almost complete. Nagini, for her part, arranged for the transfer of her personal vault to Gringotts London, leaving the Von Richter family vault in Zürich for now.

"We have one more item, Felgazim," said Harry.

"Of course, Lord Potter," replied the goblin. It had already been a profitable afternoon, and he hoped to earn an additional fee. "How may we assist you?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Does Gringotts have a policy on dark magic items kept in vaults?"

Felgazim grinned. "Provided that the correct fees are paid, and the items are safe, we care not."

"I see," said Harry. He leaned forward in his seat, eyeing the goblin thoughtfully. In a quiet voice, he laid his cards on the table.

"What about when the item is a horcrux?"

* * *

 _ **Edited 1/27/2019 to correct formatting.**_


	4. Preliminaries

Felgazim stared openly at the wizard in front of him.

"I want to be as clear about this as possible," the goblin began. Harry Potter held his gaze, nodding. "You are asking me if we allow our customers to store horcruxes in our vaults?" Harry nodded again. "Are you _insane?_ "

"Possibly," replied Harry, agreeably. "Nevertheless,"

"Nevertheless," continued the Goblin, "Any who bring such objects into Gringotts will forfeit the contents of their vault - and, more importantly, they forfeit the item." Felgazim's voice grew even colder then, if such a thing were possible - Nagini could hear the anger brewing beneath the cool exterior of the goblin before them. "We study many branches of magic, Lord Potter, but that ritual is anathema to us."

"I see," said Harry. "Would it be the owner of the vault who forfeited everything, or the owner of the horcrux?"

That gave Felgazim pause. "Who would be mad enough to accept someone else's horcrux?"

"Oh, I can think of a few people that might." said Harry. Nagini rolled her eyes at that - this was not the straightforward negotiation he had wanted. She understood, though, that he wanted to defuse some of the goblin's anger before getting to the big ask.

Felgazim leaned forward, his hands on his desk. "Name them."

 _Got you._ Harry matched Felgazim's move, leaning toward the desk. He spoke quietly, but with a tone more akin to a recitation, rather than an argument. These were hard facts being entered into the record, not emotional reasons for the goblin to agree to a request.

"The death eaters found many odd places to hide such artifacts, sir. One was hidden inside the Keystone of a building in Hogsmeade, when it was rebuilt with donated funds in mid 1982. Another was embedded in a public monument in Ireland. A third was placed in the Lestrange vault in this very bank by one Bellatrix Lestrange." Harry smiled. He didn't notice Nagini stiffen at the mention of the Lestrange vault.

Again, Felgazim looked shocked - he had asked the question, never expecting there to be an answer. What's more, death eaters being involved meant that the horcruxes could belong to only one wizard - the same wizard whose followers stormed the bank after his disappearance. No, if the Dark Lord had left part of his soul in Gringotts, he would regret it. The goblin touched a symbol on his desk, and a younger goblin entered.

As the two goblins conferred, Harry leaned over to Nagini. "How am I doing?" This got him another eye roll.

"They haven't killed us yet, which is usually a good sign," she replied.

"True enough," he agreed. He glanced over to her, and saw her watching the Goblins. "You knew the Lestranges?"

She nodded. "I was there, in Paris." Harry could tell that the memory was a painful one, likely for multiple reasons. He only knew the barest outlines of the Paris incident that marked the opening shots of Grindelwald's war, but it was enough to tell him that he should change the subject.

Felgazim did that for him, however, as he walked back to his desk. The younger Goblin - likely a messenger of some sort - had left. The older Goblin sat heavily in his seat. Harry thought he seemed frustrated - but whether that was because he could do what he wanted to do, or because he _couldn't_ , was unclear. The three sat waiting for a few minutes, until a parchment appeared on the desk. Felgazim read it, keeping his expression carefully neutral.

When he addressed Harry, his voice was calm. "Lord Potter, Gringotts will not breach the integrity of one of our customers' vaults on the word of a wizard making their first visit to our bank. If you expect us to act, we will need some evidence."

Harry had expected this - and worried about it. He could give detailed memories of Bellatrix being ordered to hide the cup in her husband's vault. He could show the Dark Lord handing Hufflepuff's Cup to the witch, who held it gently and lovingly, as if it were her own child, before placing it in a charmed silk bag.

He could not, however, explain exactly how he had memories from the Dark Lord himself.

If no other option existed, and if he had time to earn the trust of the Goblins, then perhaps memories would be enough. Or, perhaps the Goblins would presume that _he_ was the Dark Lord under masquerade, and declare war on him and his house. They would include Nagini, of course, just because she had been seen with him. It would be bloody and horrific and completely unnecessary.

No, this was likely the most secure of the horcruxes, with the Lestranges in Azkaban and no Voldemort to break them out. He could afford to wait.

Harry nodded solemnly to Felgazim, and through him to the Goblin Nation. "House Potter will seek out that evidence, sir. I would not dare suggest that you betray your sacred trust, unless to do otherwise would risk the lives of your people unnecessarily."

An eyebrow raised on the goblin's face. "Is that sort of risk likely, Lord Potter?"

"No," replied Harry, shaking his head. "No, there seems to be no imminent danger. The cup has rested there for eighteen years, four months, and seventeen days, as of this morning. Surely it can wait a little while longer."

The fact that Harry had that figure on hand troubled the old Goblin. "Indeed," was his only response.

"Well, I believe we've taken enough of your time today, Foreign Accounts Manager Felgazim," said Harry, as he and Nagini rose. "Thank you again for your time, and your counsel."

Felgazim bowed to Harry, and then to Nagini. "Lord Potter, Lady Von Richter, it has been my pleasure." With that, another messenger led them back to the bank floor.

oOoOoOoOo

When the pair walked onto the floor of the bank, Harry was once again a blonde, blue-eyed wizard and Nagini had her hood up, just in case. For Harry, the worry was that someone would see him as his father - a case of mistaken identity that would start all sorts of rumors. Right now, rumors were the last thing he needed.

For Nagini, it was a more practical concern - she looked much as she had when she left Britain, not long after Grindelwald's war began. There were still wizards and witches who might recognize her, attention that wouldn't harm Harry's mission but might cause inconvenient questions about her whereabouts for the past fifty years or so. Add to that the limited few aurors - and one Headmaster - who knew that the Dark Lord had recently had a familiar named Nagini, and the risk grew.

So it was that no one noticed them when they left the private offices of Gringotts. The fact that it was close to the midday hour, and most of the goblins and humans in the bank were busy with their own affairs helped.

Their path took them near the manager's desk, where a senior goblin would watch over the activity on the floor. If a customer needed a manager, this goblin was the one summoned. As they drew near, Harry got a good look at the wizard currently speaking with the manager.

The man was in his mid thirties, by his appearance, but the years had not been kind. His robes were pristine but basic, and the folds Harry could see suggested that they had been purchased that day. Long, scruffy hair framed a kind face with a small goatee. Harry's eyes narrowed at the sight, for the man looked vaguely familiar.

Nagini noticed his reaction. "A death eater, perhaps?"

Harry shook his head. "No, but I've seen him before. The memory is faint, but there." He struggled mightily to place the man's features in his memory, but could not. As they walked closer to the altercation, Harry recalled a fight outside of Glasgow, shortly before his 'death'. He saw Voldemort casting curse after curse at a man in a hitwizard uniform, riding a flying motorcycle.

"Quit calling me Lord Black!" growled the man, and another memory came to Harry's mind. He remembered Voldemort shouting the man's name, as if it, too, were a curse.

"Sirius Black," Harry muttered, quietly. "Oh, oh Merlin." He had hoped to delay this reunion, knowing how close the man was to Dumbledore.

Nagini looked at him with concern. "What, who is it?"

He let out a worried sigh. "My godfather."

Harry's face was unreadable, but Nagini heard everything she needed to in the tone of his voice. They had spent enough time speaking over the past few weeks for that, at least, even though parseltongue did not do a great job of conveying nuance. Here, she heard the trepidation in Harry's voice, the worry.

Sirius Black was one of the few people whom Harry would have to contact, if he planned to live his life. He was the man's godson, bound by oath, there was no avoiding it. But, for just a moment, Nagini did not hear the strong voice of Lord Potter, a wizard who tricked the Dark Lord and subverted him through sheer force of will. No, in that moment she heard the fourteen year old child that Harry might have been. Harry was scared.

She placed a hand on his arm. "Another day."

The Goblin at the desk seemed willing to listen to Sirius' rant for as long as it took to settle the man down, and the guards standing nearby did not seem willing to intervene. Sirius had, it seemed, just been exonerated - and they would not be the ones to cause him trouble within an hour of his release. As Harry watched, he wondered if Sirius would grow agitated enough to draw his wand - before realizing that the man probably didn't even _have_ a wand just yet.

Nagini, however, saw an opportunity. Stepping forward, she leaned over to one of the goblins, who nodded in response to whatever request she had made. Harry watched as she walked down the steps to the main floor of the bank, her oaken staff tapping noisily against the stone.

 _Tap…. Tap…. Tap…._ The noise echoed in the hall, and eventually drew the attention of her target. Sirius Black raised his eyes to look at the hooded figure approaching him. Nagini had stepped seamlessly into the role of a pureblooded lady, poised and proper. Harry could not help but be impressed.

Sirius looked at her with confusion in his eyes - this was just one more thing to deal with. He listened politely as she spoke, then nodded in thanks. Standing, he bowed to her and gave her hand the lightest of kisses.

As she turned to depart, an old goblin walked out to meet the new Lord Black. Walking with a cane and a heavy limp, the goblin's face seemed to light up as he saw Sirius. Not wanting to intrude, Nagini walked toward the exit, where Harry was waiting.

oOoOoOoOo

Nagini's feet were beginning to trouble her, but not badly enough to prevent her from purchasing a few robes of her own. Dobby did have a good eye for color, but it had been decades since she had needed to go clothes shopping - and Harry did little to discourage her. Twilfitt and Tatting's was pleased to do business with the House of Von Richter.

Harry, having never gone shopping himself, had no interest in the outfits he saw, though Nagini briefly teased him about wearing all black. He grumbled quietly, getting a laugh from both Nagini and the saleswoman.

Nagini was quick to settle the bill, charging the purchase to her vault. Harry had offered to pay, as seemed proper, but she quietly reminded him that they didn't want to advertise an active Lord Potter just yet, and charging the bill to what was thought to be a dead house would cause a bit of a stir. He nodded, agreeing with her, while resolving to buy her a welcome home gift of some sort whenever he could.

By midafternoon, Harry could tell that Nagini was ready to head home. They apparated back to the entrance hall of Potter Manor, whereupon Harry conjured a chair for Nagini, who gratefully took a seat. Dobby, seeing her weary look at the grand staircase, offered to pop her to her room. She nodded, suddenly realizing how exhausted she was.

"Relax, I'll see you at dinner." Harry said. Nagini smiled back at him as she disappeared.

oOoOoOoOo

"You will have to at least meet with your godfather at some point," the portrait of Charlus Potter said.

Harry sat back in his chair, his boot-clad feet up on the coffee table. He had a glass of pumpkin juice, but had not taken a drink just yet.

"I know, grandfather." was Harry's reply. "Today, though, it just didn't feel right."

Charlus nodded, but said nothing, as if inviting Harry to continue.

"Well, consider his situation. According to Wormtail, Sirius escaped from Azkaban almost two years ago. He tried to track down his old friend, and almost caught him at Hogwarts, but the dementors kept him away. So he went to Ottery Saint Catchpole, where the Weasley family lives, and waited. See, Wormtail was living as a rat, the pet of one of the Weasley children. They came home from the school via floo, and found Sirius Black in their kitchen."

"Quite a scare, I imagine." said Charlus.

"It scared Wormtail, that's for certain. The poor bastard bit his 'owner' and did a runner in the confusion. Sirius escaped as well, but by then the hunt was well and truly on. He wasn't seen again, if the Prophet is to be believed, until today."

"They gave Pettigrew his trial, then." said Charlus.

Harry nodded. "The Prophet from the tournament said only that Cedric Diggory returned with an unnamed terrorist. It never identified him by name. Clearly, Madam Bones believed his account."

"And it must have been enough to free Sirius. Good."

A grin. "They didn't even have to dose Wormtail with veritaserum before he began confessing." Harry chuckled at the thought. "You know, it's almost as if he saw the wizard he thought he served execute fourteen of his comrades or something."

Charlus smiled at his grandson - he knew how much Harry despised his parents' betrayer. The fact that he was able to use the weak-willed rat to rescue himself was a bonus, for now Pettigrew had betrayed both Harry and Voldemort. A fine fate for a coward. "And the verdict?"

Harry now took a drink from his glass. "Grandfather, they couldn't decide whether to kiss the coward or chuck him through the veil. So they did both."

"Good Riddance." was Charlus' only answer. Harry raised his glass to that.

"Honestly, that was part of what made me decide to wait for Sirius." Harry said, looking thoughtful. "He saw the man who betrayed his closest friends executed, then watched him tossed into the veil of death. And then, on top of all that, he is officially freed from any accusation of wrongdoing, and given close to a million galleons as restitution. It was already an emotional day for the man."

"I see," said Charlus.

"And on top of all that," continued Harry, "He walks into Gringotts to figure out where he stands as far as assets and funds and whatnot, only to learn that his grandfather never actually removed him from the family. That he is now the Lord Black." Harry took another sip of his drink. "To then learn that his godson not only lives, but to find out _how_ he lives? No, that would be much too much."

"When you put it that way, I understand your decision."

Harry nodded, acknowledging the compliment. "Look at it this way, Grandfather. I lived it, and sometimes I have trouble believing my own story."

The portrait could say nothing to that.

After a few minutes, Harry smiled to himself once more. "You should have seen her, Grandfather. Nagini, I mean."

"Oh?" he asked.

"It was her first time among people in decades, and she carried herself as if she were made for it." He thought back to the inheritance test, and grinned. "She learned that her old friend had named her head of his house, and that she was a Lady, and it annoyed her at first - the title means little more than its sentimental value at this point. But from that instant, she carried herself not as Nagini, but as the Lady Nagini Francesca Von Richter." Harry paused, considering. "It was incredibly subtle, but obvious once you saw it. She was born for this, Grandfather."

"She seems to be quite the Lady, Harry." Charlus agreed.

"And the way she interacted with Sirius, he immediately treated her with the proper respect, despite years on the run. It was automatic, for him."

Charlus had to chuckle at that. "I don't know whether that says more about his training, or about her bearing. But either way, it says a great deal."

Harry nodded, sipping his juice. After a moment, he continued. "I don't think I'd be able to pull this off without her, Grandfather."

Charlus smiled at that - he had reached the same conclusion.

"One of the first things I said to you is that you would not be able to complete your tasks alone." he said. "Even with the Lady Nagini, you will still need allies if you wish to take back your life." he eyed his grandson. "Lord Black is likely to be one of those allies."

"Oh, absolutely." Harry agreed. "Just, not today."

"No. But soon."

"Nagini invited him to dinner at his convenience," said Harry, a bit of worry creeping into his voice. "So yes, it will be soon."

Dobby chose that moment to pop into the room. "Dinner is being ready, Master Harry sir." said the elf.

Harry stood up. "Thank you, Dobby. Is Nagini awake from her nap?"

Dobby nodded. "Mistress Snake Lady is awake and waiting for you in the dining room."

Harry looked at Charlus and mouthed _Mistress?_ Charlus laughed out loud.

"Best not to keep the Mistress Snake Lady waiting, son." teased the portrait. Harry's eye roll just made the portrait laugh louder at his discomfort.

* * *

 ** _A/N:_ Some lighter moments for our prisoners, this time. Harry's reluctance to meet with Sirius mirrors my own process in writing this chapter, for I must have three different versions of their meeting in the can. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized how overwhelming it would be for Sirius to learn Harry's story - and to do it the day he was exonerated? AND the day they tossed Wormtail through the veil? Nope. Harry wasn't ready, and more importantly, Harry _knew_ that he wasn't ready. H** **e will be, of course, and soon. But not just yet - otherwise, it'd be a much shorter story. This isn't a godmode Horcrux hunt, but a story about two lost souls figuring out how to become who they need to be.**

 **Dobby and Winky didn't just show up - the hows and whys of their service to House Potter will be explained, at some point. As will the reason why the Goblins knew to keep the accounts open, just in case.**

 **Since I've been asked, Felgazim is pronounced Fell-gah-zeem. As the Discords can tell you, coming up with unique Goblin names is bloody difficult.**

 **Feedback, as always, is welcome.**


	5. Wandlore

Two days after their trip to Gringotts, Nagini received a letter from Felgazim. Over lunch, she shared its contents with Harry.

"He agreed to serve as my account manager in Britain," she said. "Technically, I'm still a foreign account, since the Von Richter vaults remain in Austria, so he doesn't have to bend too many rules to keep my business."

"Good," said Harry. "Now I just need to figure out what I want to do."

Nagini held up the letter. "I may have asked him about that as well." She chuckled at his raised eyebrow. "He will serve as the Potter manager on a provisional basis, until you are able to meet with the Elders and explain exactly what happened. Then they'll appoint a new manager."

"Ah," was Harry's reply. "I'll have to give that some thought, then."

Nagini continued reading, as Harry thumbed through the Daily Prophet. "He also says that there is a package waiting for me at the bank." She looked thoughtful. "I wonder who would know to send a package?"

"Something from your vault, perhaps?"

"Perhaps," she agreed. "May I borrow an elf?"

Harry grinned. "Dobby! Winky!"

With two soft pops, the house elves appeared next to Harry's chair. "Yes, Master Harry, Sir?" Dobby asked.

"Unless you are busy with a task I have given you, you are to listen for the Lady Von Richter's call, and serve her as you would serve me." Harry chuckled at Nagini's expression of horror. "Do you understand?"

Both elves nodded. Winky glanced over at Nagini. "We is to be serving Mistress Snake Ladys?"

"I would appreciate it, yes, Winky." replied Harry.

Four large, round eyes turned to Nagini, as the elves waited for their commands. Nagini gave Harry a scowl. "That was unnecessary, Lord Potter." Despite her expression, he could see the amusement in her eyes.

"Oh," he said, fighting his own urge to laugh, "I think it was very necessary."

Once Nagini had allowed the elves access to her accounts, Winky popped over to the bank. She returned a few minutes later with an ornate wooden box.

The intricate design depicted wands firing upon wands, as if in battle. A sun bisected the field, with rays of light extending across the surface of the box. Harry had never seen anything quite like it, and nothing in his memories of Voldemort explained it either.

Nagini, however, knew immediately what it was. "Ollivander," she said, in a hushed tone.

Harry looked at her, puzzled. "I'm not imagining the fact that we skipped his shop, right? You were tired and we decided to come back another day."

She nodded, her attention fixed on the design of the box. "That's what happened. But if Garrick is anything like his father, then he was expecting me anyway." She gestured at the box. "It would seem he couldn't wait."

His eyes narrowed a bit, his wand hand flexing slightly. He remembered well the day that Voldemort had received his wand of yew and phoenix feather - and how old Gervaise Ollivander, standing at his son's shoulder, had remarked on the great deeds that wand would perform. Garrick had taken over not long after, so the elder Ollivander never saw the true results of his handiwork.

Harry had toyed with the idea of getting a wand of his own, but felt the urge to wait. The yew wand he carried fit his magic perfectly, despite its history - or, perhaps, because of it. There was something fitting in the idea of using this wand, of all wands, to complete his tasks. Perhaps by doing that, the yew wand could somehow be cleansed of the blood it had shed, the lives it had taken.

Only time would tell.

Nagini's hands were on either end of the box, now, and she seemed to be talking herself into opening it. Harry placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, encouraging her. With a nod, she steeled herself and opened the box.

Inside was a wand and a letter. Nagini's hands took the letter first, allowing Harry to get a look at the wand.

The wood was a deep brown, almost the same length as the yew wand. Most of the wand's surface was smooth, except for the handle. There, an intricate diamond pattern had been carved. The diamond shapes were slightly irregular, and yet each fit perfectly with the others. At the juncture between the handle and the rest of the wand, there was a spiral pattern wrapped around the circumference of the wand.

Harry's eyes grew wide when he finally recognized the designs. The diamonds were almost like the scales of a snake. The spiral design made more sense, in that context - except that the snake shown there was coiled and ready to strike.

It would not be proper for him to be the one to touch the wand first, but part of him felt it call out to his magic. The feeling was subtle, almost like an echo, but undeniable for all that. Wordlessly, Nagini handed him the letter, and took her own look at the wand.

 _13 July 1995_

 _Lady Nagini Von Richter_

 _Dear Nagini,_

 _I find that it is my pleasure to renew an acquaintance of my father's. Gervaise Ollivander took great pleasure in crafting your original wand - Walnut, twelve inches, and quite springy, with a core of unicorn hair. He said that the wand would never be a perfect fit, owing to your condition, but that it would suit you well enough. It was his lament, however, that he could not solve the riddle of your magic._

 _As you might imagine, the first weeks of summer are my slowest, and I take great pleasure in replenishing my stock of wand woods and cores during this time. Inevitably, the rush of students will come in August, and I must be prepared for the crowds. This year, however, imagine my surprise when the DMLE contacted me as an expert in wandlore!_

 _They needed to identify a set of fourteen wands, it seemed, wands whose owners had met what one might call a 'sticky end'. As I matched each wand to the fallen witch or wizard who carried it, I learned the story of that dark night in June, at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. I learned what happened to Cedric Diggory. And, through sources of my own, I learned that you had a hand in helping Mister Diggory's savior._

 _Here, then, is my gift to you, in thanks for the good you have helped to accomplish. Holly, eleven inches, nice and supple. Inside rests the heartstring of an Indonesian Padoha. If you wish to learn more about your wand, I invite you to visit my shop in Diagon Alley. When you visit, please bring your companion as well._

 _Your servant,_

 _Garrick Ollivander_

"Wow," came the awed voice of Nagini, as she gave the wand a swish. Sparks of magic flew in all directions, bright and playful. It was as if the wand were rejoicing right along with the witch.

"The wand chooses the witch, Lady Von Richter," Harry said with a smile. She turned to him, and he couldn't help but grin at the look of joy on her face. These past few days without a wand had not been much of a trial for her, since she had wanted to limit her magic use. A part of her had still worried that the ritual wouldn't hold, and she would do nothing to risk this new life she had found.

The more she thought about it, and the more she saw Harry and 'his' wand, the more she longed for her old walnut wand, lost long ago. This wand, though - this was a more perfect fit than she could have imagined.

"It's amazing," was her whispered response. The texture of the handle, and its snake scale pattern, felt perfect in her hand. The coiled serpent was a reminder of the power she held within her, even as she kept it tightly controlled.

"Don't overdo it, Nagini," he cautioned. Then his hand was on his cheek, and Nagini was grinning right back at him - she had struck him with a stinging hex.

oOoOoOoOo

The following afternoon saw the pair once again walking down Diagon Alley. Harry was wearing his glamours, though the look was different than it had been for their trip to the bank. Nagini still walked with her staff, though she needed it less and less each day. Harry had been amused to learn that she kept it in hand simply because she liked the look of it.

Ollivander's shop was one of those places that felt like it was frozen in time. Both had memories of the dusty shelves, stacked high with those long, narrow boxes. Each held a wand waiting for its wizard or witch - and some of those wands waited a very long time.

Just as his father had, Garrick Ollivander seemed to appear out of nowhere. "My greetings, Lady Von Richter," he said, by way of a formal greeting. The wandmaker bowed low over her hand, giving it the traditional kiss, before turning to her companion. "And this must be the Lord Potter. I must say, I feared you would never grace my humble establishment, sir." He smiled at them, but it was a smile with some sadness behind it. "It is good to see you, truly."

Harry shared a look with Nagini. "To be quite honest, I'm thrilled to be here as well, Mister Ollivander."

The wandmaker glanced a Harry's forearm, before his eyes narrowed. "You still carry… _his_ wand?"

With a snap of his wrist, Harry revealed the yew wand. "Yes, sir." Reversing the wand, he handed it to Ollivander for his inspection.

"Indeed," said the man, quietly. "And you hope to redeem it's magic, then?"

Harry could only nod. "Too many fell to this wand, sir. If I can turn it to a more benevolent purpose, then how else?"

"As you say," was Ollivander's reply. Handing the wand back, Ollivander looked Harry in the eyes. "Are you sure it is the wand you seek to redeem?" he asked, quietly.

Before Harry could respond, the man had shifted his focus to Nagini. "And you, my dear, I trust you received your parcel?" he asked.

"Of course, Mister Ollivander," said Nagini. Smoothly, she pulled the holly wand out of her wrist holster. "It is quite a gift, one I hope to be worthy of."

Ollivander waved a dismissive hand at that. "Your deeds in the war against Grindelwald would be enough for that, my dear." He looked into her eyes, as if searching for something. Then he smiled softly, nodding to himself, as if he had found it. "I daresay that your recent deeds are of a higher import, however."

She saw him glance over at Harry, where he had been pretending to look at the stacks of boxed wands.

Nagini tilted her head at the wandmaker. "Just like your father, Mister Ollivander, speaking in riddles." This was said with a smile, one that the man returned with warmth at the mention of his mentor. She lifted the holly wand, as if offering it for his inspection. "Your letter hinted at a deeper riddle in the history of this wand."

"And so there is, my dear. Lord Potter?" Harry turned, and saw the wandmaker beckoning him over. "You will wish to hear this as well."

Ollivander took the wand from Nagini with the gentle hands of a craftsman. Walking to the sales counter, he placed it on an ornate metal stand, almost as if to display the wand. Harry and Nagini stood across the counter, facing him.

In a quiet voice, Ollivander told the tale.

"The yew wand you carry, Lord Potter, was one of the wands I crafted during my last summer as an apprentice to my father." His eyes went to the front window of the shop, where the proud "Ollivanders'" sign could easily be seen. "The phoenix feather that serves as its core was the only feather given by that particular phoenix, and I had no hopes that there would be another."

"Then," he continued, looking up at Harry. "Shortly before you were born, I had a visitor. That visitor told me that a prophecy had been made about the Dark Lord. There was a wizard who could defeat he-who-must-not-be-named, but to do that he would need every advantage." Ollivander gestured at the end of the counter. "Before my eyes, a phoenix appeared in a surge of flame. To my amazement, it was the same phoenix!" His eyes lit up with joy at the memory of the phoenix's song that day. "Before I could say a word, the phoenix shook out its beautiful tail, and a lone feather fell."

"Now, my visitor, he told me to take that feather, willingly given, and use all of my skill to craft a wand that would prove to be a worthy match to that of the Dark Lord." He shook his head, a sadness crossing his features. "And I did. It was a magnificent piece of craftsmanship, if I do say so myself. But alas, it was all for naught."

Ollivander looked at Harry once more, and Harry could see the sorrow on the man's face. "Before that wizard could ever think about coming to my shop and taking up his wand, the Dark Lord slew him - and in so doing, sealed his own fate."

Harry was surprised to find a tear on his cheek. Whether it was from the memory of that day, or from the emotion of Ollivander's tale, he was not sure. A light touch on his shoulder told him that Nagini had noticed his reaction as well, and he patted her hand with his own.

"I woke the next day to find my workbench in shambles." The Wandmaker chuckled. "It would seem that there had been a fire overnight, though I could not figure out how. At least, not at first." Leaning forward, Ollivander gestured to the holly wand. "It seems that the wand I had crafted for the slayer of the Dark Lord, the finest wand I had created to that point, had incinerated itself in the dead of the night. The phoenix feather was ash, and though the wood itself was unscathed, much of the runework was lost."

He placed a hand on the wand, his eyes closed. He, too, was clearly fighting back tears. "I kept the wood, of course, for it remained an intensely magical object. But I had no clear understanding of why, until last week." He looked from Nagini to Harry. "When I learned of what you had done, Lord Potter, and saw who now stood by your side, well… I knew what I had to do."

"The heartstring of an Indonesian Padoha, a fiercely protective species of dragon. Virtually unknown in this part of the world, and exceedingly rare even in their natural habitat." Ollivander met Nagini's eyes. "One challenges the nest of a Padoha at their peril."

"The holly wand, crafted for one but given to another, having spent its first core in death, only to find another in rebirth. Two rebirths, it would seem." He ran a finger across the handle, and his voice was barely a whisper now. "The scales conceal protective runes, just as your scales, Lady Von Richter, concealed your true nature for so very long."

Nagini was overwhelmed with emotion, and fought to keep herself under control. "And the serpent, sir?" she asked quietly.

Ollivander smiled. "Even as you take your steps into this new life, you will never stray too far from who you are."

She placed her hand on the wand, closing her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered.

Ollivander gently touched her hand, before stepping away to give her time to gather her thoughts. Harry gave her shoulders a light squeeze, before walking over to the wandmaker. The older man spoke before Harry could ask his question.

"You two are connected by far more than a wand, Mister Potter." The wandmaker said, quietly, in the manner of a teacher educating a student. Harry realized that it was the tone he used when teaching the first years of Hogwarts about their wands, and why one works when another did not. With a sudden sadness, Harry realized that that moment - selecting his own wand, his parents watching with pride - was another moment that Voldemort had taken from him.

"She saved me," said Harry, just as quietly. "She gave me hope."

"And now," Ollivander continued. "You do the same for her."

They watched Nagini for a moment, saying nothing more. To Harry's eyes, it was as if she was connecting with the wand all over again - and, now that she knew the wand's history, it might be that she was doing exactly that.

"Just out of curiosity Mister Ollivander," asked Harry. "Whose phoenix gave the feather for my wand?" Ollivander raised an eyebrow at the turn of phrase, then decided that it really didn't matter which wand Harry was referring to when he mentioned 'his wand'. He rather hoped it was the yew, though, for that would mean that the Dark Lord was gone for good.

"The phoenix is named Fawkes," Ollivander said. Harry raised an eyebrow at that, before realizing where Voldemort had heard that name before.

"Professor Dumbledore," he said.

"Yes," was the wandmaker's reply.

They saw Nagini lift her wand off of the stand, and place it back in her holster. "I shall have to thank him, then." said Harry.

"Perhaps," answered Ollivander. "He would be pleased that the wand I made at his request is in good hands."

Nagini interrupted them, then, with another round of thanks for Ollivander's kindness. After promises to keep in touch, and a hug for the surprised wandmaker, Harry and Nagini left the shop. Harry was eager to get her back to the manor, so that she could see what her new wand could do.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ **Thanks to the HPFanfiction Discord, and specifically to user FitzDizzyspells, for helping me work up ideas for Nagini's wand. The concept ended up being so good that what had been a brief moment became an entire chapter. But reinforcing the connection between Harry and Nagini, in ways both subtle and obvious, was absolutely worth it.**

 **Feedback, as always, is welcome.**


	6. The Hall of the Dead

Despite the literal years she had spent in the outdoors, Nagini found that meditating with the wind in her hair and the sun overhead was far more relaxing than the quiet of Potter Manor.

It was a beautiful summer day, with few clouds in the sky. A perfect day to join Harry on his long-planned trip to Ireland. Dobby and Winky had set up the bright green wizarding tent, as well as chairs and a small campfire. The elves had even placed some sort of metal grid over the fire, likely at Harry's request.

Harry had not come across with them, for today was the day of his meeting with Lord Diggory. As they had suspected, Amos Diggory was treating the meeting as a family matter - which told them that he knew of Harry's inadvertent admission into his family. It also meant that bringing someone unrelated along, even someone with a respectable title, would be a sign of disrespect.

Neither of them had failed to notice that it was the first time they had been truly separated since the graveyard. For Nagini, it was an odd feeling. She could not shake the notion that it was just as uncomfortable for Harry - though the fact that she sensed that discomfort troubled her.

It was that worry that saw her sitting under a tree on a nearby hilltop, sitting on a blanket. After Harry had apparated away from the manor, Nagini had begun to feel a tug at the back of her mind, like an itch she couldn't scratch. It reminded her of the ritual that restored her, at first. When the feeling persisted an hour later, as she and the elves prepared to depart for Ireland, she had struggled to identify the problem.

When she figured it out, she let out a gasp that startled both elves.

The feeling was one of loss and dread - and it was this same feeling that a familiar experiences when separated from its master. The thought was horrifying to Nagini, for she had been certain that the magic binding her to Voldemort had been broken with Harry's version of the ritual. She had felt the connection break, she had known with absolute certainty that her master was gone. The itch, such as it had been, had vanished.

The presence of that connection worried her. Harry did not deserve to be tied to her against his will, she reasoned. Nagini did not pause to consider her own circumstances, or the fact that she had done nothing to warrant being tied to a wizard against _her_ will, either.

That lack of concern for her own situation did not bother her. Either it was an artifact of the familiar bond, or it was merely a result of being on her own for so long. She knew herself, and knew that she would manage. Harry, on the other hand, had barely a month of life experience as a wizard. Powerful though he may be, and mature beyond his years thanks to the decades of Voldemort's experiences to which he had been exposed, the reality was that he felt fragile to her.

Sometimes, it felt as if he just needed a hug. Sometimes, it felt as if he carried a far heavier weight than anyone should be asked to carry.

 _So,_ she thought, _I simply need to be there for him, to help carry the load._ Here, too, came the worry - why was she staying with him? If there was still some magical bond between them, then every one of her motivations became suspect. That thought troubled her as well.

An hour later, Nagini was so lost in her thoughts that she did not notice Harry's arrival. Only when he sat next to her on the hilltop did she open her eyes.

"Greetings, Lady Von Richter," said Harry in a formal tone, even as he plopped himself down on the blanket next to her, as undignified as could be.

She chuckled at that, resisting the urge to elbow him in the side. "None of that, Mister Potter if you please."

Harry couldn't help but grin. "As you wish, Miss."

They sat together for a few minutes, enjoying the breeze and the view and the comfortable silence.

Presently, Harry sighed. "I'm glad we decided to come a day early," he said. "The view is spectacular."

Nagini could only nod in agreement. Their planned trip to Ballyquintin Point was tomorrow, and Harry had insisted on walking to the site, saying that the protections would hinder any form of magical transportation. She had countered by saying that they should set up camp closer to the monument, to which Harry had shuddered. He was not willing to sleep anywhere within a mile's walk of the place.

Now, however, after seeing the spot he had chosen? Nagini couldn't argue. Ireland was truly a magnificent place, especially when you were this far from civilization.

After a while, Harry stood up and stretched out. "Dobby probably wants me to start dinner," he said.

Nagini looked up at him, surprised. "Dobby is letting you cook?"

Harry shrugged. "I've been wanting to try it. I mean, we were living in caves and cooking over fires for thousands of years, how hard could it be?"

oOoOoOoOo

"Someday," Nagini said, "You'll have to tell me what that steak did to offend you so."

Harry shook his head, grumbling.

Dobby, too, could barely hide his amusement. "More stew, Master Harry Sir?"

Rolling his eyes, Harry held out his bowl, and the elf ladled out another helping of beef stew. Dobby then snapped his fingers, and two halves of a roll appeared in the bowl.

Nagini, still on her first serving, dipped her own roll into the stew, soaking up the flavors with the bread. It was another reminder that her sense of taste was much more refined now than it had been in her first life as a woman. Decades of reliance on her tongue for information had seemingly carried over - which made Dobby's meal such a delight, just as it had made Harry's attempt that much more of a disaster.

Harry had wanted to make dinner for Nagini, as a special surprise on their first trip together. He had spent a week reading up on cooking over a fire, and had carefully chosen a meal that would be simple but delicious. Steak with baked potatoes, fresh baked rolls, and salad. The muggles had a thin metal foil that would work for cooking the potatoes - those went right along the edge of the fire. The steaks, he seasoned just as the book had suggested, and then placed them on a metal grate over the fire, even including a third for Dobby. Keeping a close eye on them, and casting a _tempus_ to keep time, he could surely cook three pieces of meat, right?

Wrong. Lord Potter had not thought to practice the meal before traveling, as he had not wanted to give away the surprise. So his first attempt was over a fire, out in the open, in an unfamiliar setting.

A light breeze had caught the campfire just right, causing the flames to leap just a little higher. Harry had moved to adjust the placement of the steak, and ended up forgetting to flip one of them. When he noticed, he focused on that steak, neglecting the first - and nudging the third into a hotter place over the fire. The result, when it was all said and done, was three _very_ well done pieces of meat.

In his panic, Harry had forgotten about the potatoes entirely. When he removed them from the fire, and peeled back the charred foil, he found that they were quite unsalvageable.

Dobby saved the meal by producing a beef stew, cooked earlier in the week and kept in stasis. He did not say that he had prepared the meal within hours of learning about Harry's plan for the evening. Truly, he didn't need to.

Grudgingly, Harry admitted that the stew was quite good, causing Nagini to chuckle.

"You'll get it right next time, dear," she said, before taking another bite.

Harry's spoon paused halfway to his mouth, as he glanced over at her. _Dear?_

"Here's hoping," he said, quietly.

oOoOoOoOo

The following morning, Harry and Nagini walked toward the Irish coast.

Their campsite was just over a mile and a half north of their destination, separated from the monument by two lush, rolling hills. It was a pleasant walk, though Nagini was surprised when Harry had a muggle outfit for her.

"It's a tourist attraction," he explained. "There will be muggles out, on a day like today, and we'll just attract attention."

Even during her time in Germany, and later in East Germany, Nagini's choices of muggle fashion had hewed closer to the dresses she preferred in her youth. Flowing styles, ruffles, materials that shined like her scales. The clothing Harry had given her was anything but that.

She had to concede, though, that shorts and a comfortable shirt were much better for the day's walk than flowing robes or a dress.

Harry wore his usual black pants and boots, a dark green shirt completing the ensemble. It was strange to see him without his black longcoat, and he looked ill at ease to Nagini's eyes. She did not know if it was because of his clothing, the warm weather, or because of their destination.

Cresting the hill, Nagini and Harry got their first look at Ballyquintin Point. What they saw was an old stone obelisk, reaching seventy feet in height. Its base was exactly forty-nine feet on each side. What made the otherwise nondescript structure interesting was its age - the stone was dated at around two thousand years old. It was newer than some of the prehistoric monuments or standing stones that dotted the emerald isle, but its precision suggested something far more recent.

Of course, none of the scholars who researched the site had any idea that magic had been used to carve the monument, though some probably noticed that the number seven kept finding its way into the dimensions of the stonework. No, as Harry had explained the night before, this monument was built in 1055 AD, far later than anyone suspected.

When Nagini asked why, he only frowned and said that she would find out.

There were indeed muggles at the site, including a family having a picnic nearby. Harry stopped and watched them for a moment, his expression unreadable. Nagini followed his eyes, and saw a young girl with red hair and a pink dress. As her parents watched, the girl was flying a kite, taking advantage of the breeze blowing in from the sea. Her laughter carried, clear as could be.

Nagini found herself smiling at the sight. Harry only sighed, before turning away.

"Come on, it's not far now," he said.

Frowning at his tension, Nagini followed.

They walked down the hill and past the monument, toward the edge of the point. A rail kept visitors from wandering too close to the edge of the land, though the trash littering the base of the cliff told her that some still climbed down anyway.

To her right, she saw something out of the corner of her eye. When she turned to look, it was gone, and she felt the sudden urge to turn and look at the monument. Harry's hand on her elbow stopped her, and she looked at him instead.

"That was the ward you felt. It'll pass once we are below." Still holding her elbow, he walked forward, toward the right-hand end of the railing. Nagini said nothing as she walked with him.

When they reached the railing, she was surprised to see a set of ancient-looking stone steps. Without saying a word, Harry led her down. The steps, etched into the side of the hill, led them to a cave cut into the rock face. It was about fifty feet above sea level, but still well below the plateau.

It took them only a dozen paces inside the cave before they passed the ward line, and the notice-me-not fell away. Nagini gasped as she saw that the cave was actually a tomb. The stone reminded her of the interior of a pyramid or some similar structure, for it was as precisely carved as the monument above had been. At the center of the room, she saw a lone crypt, its surface engraved with a motif of swords and snakes.

Nagini looked at the ceiling, and realized that it seemed to taper toward a central stone. She looked back, seeing the path they had taken into the cliff face, and considering the distance.

"We're underneath the monument," she said.

Harry nodded, his eyes on the far wall. "Nagini Von Richter," he began formally, "Welcome to the tomb of Salazar Slytherin."

oOoOoOoOo

For someone who had spent years building his name by touting his place in the legacy of Slytherin, Voldemort had had little trouble desecrating the tomb of the man himself.

Nagini had never been in Slytherin, and had only even set foot on Hogwarts grounds as a refugee, at best. She had no sympathy toward that house, beyond the fact that its symbol was a snake. Even with that tenuous connection to Slytherin's legacy, she found herself angered and appalled at the violation that the Dark Lord had worked upon this place.

As a hiding spot, however, it was well chosen. The tomb had lay hidden for centuries, right under the noses of the muggles. And since the muggles thought the monument to predate Slytherin by over a thousand years, no one magical would consider it as a possible location of Slytherin's final resting place.

Her attention was drawn to the far side of the tomb, and a stone panel that had begun to move. She could feel the tension in the air, and the anger on Harry's face.

"It didn't work," he muttered. "Wands out." Harry drew his yew wand just as she raised her holly wand.

"What is it?" she asked, keeping her eyes on the threat.

"A mistake," was the reply. When the creature stepped out of the darkness, she understood.

Whatever the intruder might have been, the form it took stilled her heart. Nagini remembered well that short, black hair, and those kind but tired eyes. She would never forget the cloud of raw magic that protected her that day in Paris.

But where the man in her memories would be passive, in hopes of going unnoticed, this creature stood tall, his eyes never turning from the pair before him. When he met her gaze, his features twisted in an angry sneer.

"You finally came for me, didn't you?" it said.

 _It couldn't be him,_ she thought.

A blast of magic struck out, and Harry raised a shield to protect them both. It was black and angry, just as one might expect from an obscurial.

Nagini finally brought herself to speak his name. Not the one he had found, not the one he had claimed, for she would never bring herself to trust the words of Gellert Grindelwald. No, when she spoke, it was with the name he had carried when she met him, so long ago. The name she remembered with fond sorrow, dwelling on the simpler times, before the war and the betrayals that nearly destroyed them both.

"Creedence," she said softly.

"You left me to die!" Creedence replied, angrily. "We should have gone away together, Nagini, but you left me!"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "You chose the easy path, and it killed you."

"YOU KILLED ME!" With an angry shout, the creature unleashed another blast of power at her. Harry felt the thing's hatred even as he shielded her from its power.

It was time to end this, thought Harry. In Parseltongue, he spoke the first password. Voldemort crafted the protection here for intruders, not to keep himself out. The charms built into the tomb had their own back doors. It did not escape Harry's notice that Voldemort had essentially claimed ownership of Slytherin's tomb.

 **/"Have you no cunning?"/** Harry's words seemed to freeze the creature in place. Its attack halted, Creedence turned toward the other intruder. But when its gaze fell upon Harry, its form shifted rapidly. The creature grew taller, and its clothing transformed into the battle robes of a junior auror. When the now hazel eyes met Harry's own, Nagini heard a gasp.

James Potter raised a wand at Harry. His features were completely changed, and if Nagini had not noticed that he wore the same evil sneer, she would have thought him a different creature entirely. She kept her wand up, unsure of what was happening.

"You dare walk around with that THING in your head?" asked James, pointing an angry finger at Harry. "You should have stayed dead, rather than risk HIM getting loose again." James shook his head. "So disappointing, you can't even die properly."

"Father," said Harry, weakly. In his voice, Nagini heard not the strong man she had come to know these past weeks, but the boy he might have been. A teenager, if that, on the cusp of adulthood, being dressed down by his father. Having never known her own father, she couldn't begin to understand the emotion he felt.

James shot a weak stinging hex at Harry, striking him in the face. Nagini shielded the second attack, causing James to increase the power of his spells. Harry still stood, frozen.

"I died for you, the least you can do is return the favor," snarled James, casting again. "Come on, boy, prove me wrong. FIGHT ME!"

Harry closed his eyes, shaking his head. Instead of addressing the creature before him, he raised his voice to the ceiling, as if calling for help.

 **/"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four."/**

At Harry's words, the magic surged through the room, causing Nagini to shield her eyes. When she looked again, the stone above the crypt was glowing with a soft green light. The creature, meanwhile, had fallen backwards, as if it had been a puppet with cut strings.

Her wand still out, Nagini stepped toward the creature. When she got close enough, she saw that it had turned into a stone statue, inert and featureless. Only the small runes across its forehead and chest spoke of any sort of magical nature - by all appearances, it was dead.

"What was that thing?" asked Nagini, her voice still shaking as the tension drained from her.

"A soldier that knew every fear in its enemy, and could get them to freeze at exactly the wrong moment." Harry regarded the fallen golem with distaste. "That, Nagini, was what Lord Voldemort got when he attempted to weaponize a boggart. He could never get the magic just right, but it was a beginning. He took the most effective magic - the part that revealed your darkest fears - and wove it into two of the other horcruxes. The golem, thankfully, he abandoned, preferring inferi."

"He spoke of that," she replied, quietly. "He said that he would loose an army of the dead on his enemies."

Harry nodded. "I remember. I also recall how much pleasure he took at the thought of using them to execute the Wizengamot, on the floor of the council chamber." He shuddered at the thought. "The sooner we send him to hell, the better."

"Agreed," said Nagini.

She felt a slight pulse of magic from Harry, and turned back to look at him. There, standing over the crypt, she saw him seemingly reach into thin air. _A disillusioned container,_ she thought. _Probably expanded so that it takes up no space here. Clever._

Harry's arm disappeared up to the shoulder. A small smile appeared on his face, and he withdrew his arm. Clutched in his gloved hand was a silver shield, just under three feet in diameter.

It was the Shield of Gryffindor.

Nagini watched as Harry cast several spells on the shield, removing curses and protections. After a moment, he took out his own bag. The shield, despite its size, disappeared into the sack, safely contained.

They had found their first horcrux. Looking down at the fallen golem, Nagini sighed. She could only hope that the others weren't as hard as this one had been.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** _**I considered having another scene at camp, but it would largely have been Nagini and Harry looking at each other and going "Holy shit, that happened." Let's give them some time to decompress, shall we? As I've said from the beginning, this story isn't about a god-mode horcrux hunt. Rather, it's about Harry and Nagini figuring out who they are - as individuals and (no spoiler here) as a team. Harry is coming to terms with what he's lost - but is also mindful of what he's gained, and that will play out as we move forward.**

 **In this universe, the protection on the locket was a refinement of what Voldemort came up with here. Typical boggarts don't cast back at you, nor do they mimic a bloody obscurial. For most intruders, that would be sufficient. Failing that, you'd still have to be a parselmouth to retrieve the shield. As protections go, it works.**

 **Thank you again to all who have read and reviewed this story. Even if I do not reply, know that your thoughts are appreciated.**

 **Feedback, as always, is welcome.**


	7. Sons and Daughters, Sisters and Brothers

_When the death eaters had been cleared out of the audience chamber, Voldemort considered the woman standing before him. She had walked right up the door of Lestrange Manor, crossing all of the wards that should have barred her way. Then, bold as brass, she had asked for an audience with the Dark Lord._

 _Rodolphus had asked her what gave her the right to demand the Dark Lord's time. She had smirked, brushing her silver and blue hair away from her eyes, before answering._

" _I think my father will want to hear what I have to say, Uncle Rod."_

 _When he heard the reply, Voldemort was intrigued. Many had tried to insinuate themselves into his confidence, with varying degrees of success - it was hard to keep ulterior motives when a brief dose of legilimency would reveal all. This ploy at least had the virtue of being original, however implausible._

 _Rodolphus remained behind, as did Abraxas Malfoy. Rabastan had been sent to summon his sister in law. Voldemort sat in his throne, watching the woman standing before him._

" _You claim to be my daughter," he said, without preamble. "A bold claim, all the better for proof."_

 _The woman smiled at that - no, she grinned up at him. "I thought you'd say that, father." Carefully, with slow movements, she removed a silver amulet from her neck. Rodolphus took it from her and handed it to the Dark Lord, who held it up to the light._

 _It was Salazar Slytherin's locket - the very same locket that sat in his study, waiting to be turned into a horcrux. The one in his hand was slightly larger than the other, however, marking it as a forgery - or suggesting that the one he already had was itself a fake. In either case, the woman knew that he possessed what was thought to be the original. Clearly, she already knew far too much._

 _The woman was still smiling as he examined the amulet._ _ **{Open it, Father.}**_

 _Voldemort looked up sharply at the hissed words, even as the others took involuntary steps back. If the woman was a parselmouth, that suggested that she might be telling the truth, somehow. Returning his gaze to the amulet, Voldemort hissed the command._

 _The locket popped open, revealing the most intricately crafted time turner Voldemort had ever seen. If he was interpreting the mechanism correctly, this device could travel years, perhaps decades, rather than mere hours. An absurd notion, really, as time turners simply didn't work that way - but it was an impressive effort at furthering the obvious deception._

 _Again, he looked up at the woman, considering her. "So, you have come to us from the future, then?"_

 _She nodded. "Yes, father."_

 _Voldemort looked back at the amulet, as if considering the untold power within. "Why now?" The question was a broad one, intended to get the woman talking - he had to know her intentions._

" _I grew up in the shadow of your defeat, father, knowing neither love nor hope. When I had the chance to come back and make things right, I could not say no." She fixed his eyes on his, as if daring him to read her mind. The move was subtle, but troubled him - it was as if she invited attack, so that she could battle him mind to mind. He knew he would win such a contest, but the brazen challenge would warrant death if it came from one of his followers._

" _And what would you do, if we accepted your claim?" Voldemort's voice was quiet, as if he were considering his options - and hers._

 _He saw the madness in her eyes as she spoke. "I would rule the wizarding world at your side, as we build a dynasty of a thousand years. The future, my Lord Father, is ours to make."_

 _Voldemort nodded, saying nothing._

 _His silence seemed to unnerve the woman, for she continued to speak. "Father, I am the heiress of the Slytherin legacy, the last daughter of the houses of Lestrange and Riddle. To build the new world, we must first build the foundation - that's why I'm here."_

 _Her words seemed to make up his mind. Voldemort stepped forward, watching as the woman's face lit up at his approach. When he came before her, she looked as if she were about to weep with joy. There it was again, though, that glint of madness in her eye. If anything, it confirmed the decision he had made._

" _Tell me," he said, the woman hanging on every word. "What need has an immortal for an heiress?"_

 _Her eyes grew wide in shock, her mouth open in a gasp. For as long as she could remember, Delphini Riddle had dreamed of meeting her father, of standing at his side. This was not what she expected._

 _She did not see his wand move to aim at her heart._

" _The Dark Lord does not share power, my dear." He intoned, seeming to enjoy her shock. "Avada Kedavra!" She fell to the floor, shock etched into her features for all time._

 _Voldemort held the amulet in his hand, his wand waving in an intricate pattern. His quiet chanting told the death eaters that something important was about to happen. Rodolphus had no idea what was happening, but Abraxas had his suspicions. The impromptu ritual reminded him of a diary he had been given for safekeeping, not long ago._

 _A black mist seemed to leave the Dark Lord and flow into the amulet, which shook violently before latching itself shut. Seemingly drained, Voldemort sat back down in his throne._

 _Gesturing at the corpse, he sighed. "Take some of her blood, find out who she really was."_

 _Rodolphus nodded. "Yes, My Lord."_

" _Abraxas," Voldemort turned to his old friend, who bowed to him. "Summon Regulus Black, will you?" He looked down at the amulet turned horcrux. "I have a task for him."_

A rumble of thunder shook Harry Potter from his thoughts, and he opened his eyes. Even in the relative shelter of the cavern, he could feel the growing storm outside. It was fitting, he thought, for it matched the storm of his emotions this night.

The cave had opened to him, just as he had expected - as with the tomb, a simple password, spoken in parseltongue, bypassed many of the outer protections. It was the sight that greeted him inside the cave, however, that had given him pause.

Inferi and poison had been the primary defenses for the amulet, as well as an obscure location. If one managed to get past all of that, and collected the horcrux, the anti-apparition wards would still keep a wizard from leaving. Thus, you would have to walk out of the cave while carrying the horcrux.

Voldemort had been vain and arrogant, believing that no one could ever outwit him or his traps. But he was not stupid. A ten foot stretch of the narrow entrance to the cavern had been fitted with brutal war wards, triggered by the presence of the modified amulet.

Harry knelt beside the corpse, ignoring the rictus of pain on the wizard's face. The amulet was still clutched tightly in the man's rotting grasp.

Regulus Black had died within sight of freedom, a mere twenty feet from completing his mission.

The false amulet was already in Harry's pocket, along with a note from the youngest Black brother claiming responsibility. _Sirius will want that,_ Harry thought to himself. _He deserves to know his brother's fate._

Faces flashed across Harry's memory, light and dark alike. So very many had died, anonymous and alone. What had _their_ families been told, he wondered. Sons and daughters, brothers and sisters.

"Such a waste," Harry muttered to himself.

Gently, Harry took the horcrux from Regulus' corpse, and placed it into a silk bag. Then he stood up and waved his wand, causing the remains to rise into the air. He would keep them under stasis charms until he knew what Sirius wanted done - or, failing that, he would simply give them a place of honor at Potter Manor.

Regulus Black had defied the Dark Lord, sacrificing his life in the process. An honorable burial was the least that House Potter could do.

oOoOoOoOo

Harry had already left for the cave when Nagini woke, and the fact that he had decided to go after a horcrux alone troubled her. Even if he could bypass the threat posed by a lake full of inferi, it was still a not insignificant risk. She had stewed in her anger for most of the morning, before asking the portrait of Charlus Potter what Harry had been thinking.

"You really don't know, do you?" the portrait had replied, clearly amused at the question. "He did not want to put you at risk."

That brought her up short. "What?"

The portrait chuckled at her confusion. "When you were recovering from the ritual, he refused to leave your side. How do you think he would react if you came to harm?"

Her thoughts went back to Ireland, and their encounter with the boggart-turned-golem. They had never truly been at risk, but Harry had taken even the most minimal threat personally. After returning to their campsite, he had been intent on making sure she had recovered from the experience.

He had, of course, brushed off her concerns for his own reaction. It irritated her, but not very much - it had been many years since someone had cared about how she felt, and she found that it was a much needed comfort.

"He owes me nothing," she said quietly, as if to herself. "If anything, the debt runs the other way."

"There, you are wrong," stated the portrait. "Harry tells me that even when you were controlled by the Dark Lord, he took comfort in your presence. He says you were a lifeline, where before he had been surrounded by darkness and enemies."

Nagini sat back in her chair, considering the comment. "He said I gave him hope."

Charlus nodded. "And you continue to do so, whether you believe it or not."

It was a very thoughtful Nagini who made her way to the library. As she left the study, she did not see the satisfied grin on the portrait's face.

oOoOoOoOo

When he returned to the manor, Harry secured the remains of Regulus Black. Then, he went directly to his study to update his grandfather's portrait on what he had found. With that done, Harry decided to ask the question that had been burning at him ever since Ireland.

"Grandfather, did my parents ever talk about their plans for after the war?"

The portrait of Charlus Potter looked at his grandson, concern in his eyes. The boy… no, the man was troubled, but about what, the portrait did not know.

"They did," Charlus replied cautiously. "Why do you ask?"

Harry shook his head. "Family has been on my mind, these past few days. Even more so after the cave."

"Ah, yes, the cave. Finding your cousin troubled you, that much was clear."

A nod. "Most of my memories of Sirius Black are from the Dark Lord, but what I do remember is a kind man who loved his brother. Despite their differences, he mourned when he learned of Regulus' death." Harry sighed, sitting on the leather couch.

Charlus, now in a portrait frame that depicted a study, matched Harry's action, taking a seat of his own. "You mourn your brothers and sisters, then." It was not a question.

Harry did not look up at the portrait, but focused his eyes on the glass of water in his hand. "I have no brothers or sisters, sir. As you know."

The portrait waved its hand, dismissively. "You don't mourn for what was lost, Harry, but what you never had the chance to have in the first place."

 _Perceptive as ever,_ thought Harry bitterly. To the portrait, he nodded. "I find myself dreaming about a girl with red hair and hazel eyes, running around and playing in a field." He looked up at the portrait. "We saw a girl much like that in Ireland, enjoying a day out with her family, and I suppose it got me thinking."

"I see," replied Charlus. "Could it be that you are thinking about a child of your own, perhaps?"

"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "This girl felt like a sister." He closed his eyes again, as his eyes grew we with unshed tears. "A sister I'll never know."

Charlus' voice cut through the emotion of the moment, a skill Harry knew came from commanding the forces of the Light during Grindelwald's war. It was the sort of voice that demanded attention, and it always seemed to work.

"You are alive, Harry." Charlus said, with authority. "That you can mourn what you've lost means that you are in control of yourself, and in control of your feelings." His eyes focused on his grandson, as he hammered the point home.

"Voldemort…" began Harry, only to be cut off by the portrait.

"You are not Voldemort!" Charlus replied. "Every interaction with family that man had ended in death. Merlin, you even told me he executed his own daughter!"

"He did," confirmed Harry. "And when the truth was confirmed for him, he did not regret the act for one second. He simply summoned Bellatrix Lestrange, the girl's mother, and cast a sterility charm on her." Harry let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief as the memory played itself out in his mind. "You know, Bellatrix even thanked him for preventing what she saw as a betrayal. Can you imagine that? Utter fanaticism."

"None of which describes you, Harry," Charlus continued. "Once you have completed your work, you can start a family of your own, if you like."

Another shake of the head. "I'm not going to find some witch and help her pop out children because my parents were killed before they could give me siblings."

Charlus shrugged. "Then don't." Off Harry's look, the portrait continued. "The way I figure it, House Potter is living on borrowed time anyway. That we did not die out fourteen years ago is owed to sheer luck and your iron will."

"I can't let the line die," Harry said weakly.

Again, Charlus shrugged. "What is meant to be, will be. But the path you take _has_ to be your own. I'm not going to tell you what to do, nor is Nagini. And the Dark Lord has no say either, despite your fears."

Harry gave the portrait a sharp look. He had said nothing about one of his nightmares, the one where it was not a blue and silver haired woman being executed at his hand, but a red haired girl.

 _My hand? No, Voldemort's hand._ Harry again corrected himself in his mind, and ignored the worry that resulted. It didn't lessen the guilt he felt at the woman's death, however mad she may have been - and despite the fact that she died four years before he was even born.

oOoOoOoOo

The cave - and its grim contents - were not far from Harry's mind the following week, when Nagini invited Sirius Black to dinner.

During his meeting with Harry, Lord Diggory had suggested reaching out to Dumbledore sooner rather than later. The Headmaster, as well as Director Bones, had both viewed Cedric's memories of the events at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, and both acknowledged that it did appear that Harry Potter had - somehow - survived the attack in Godric's Hollow so long ago.

While Amelia Bones had focused on the identities of the dead death eaters, matching them up to the wands found at the scene, Dumbledore had focused much more intently on Harry's explanation of what had happened. How had he subverted Voldemort's ritual and usurped his very being?

Lord Diggory's reasoning was rooted in the conversation he had with the Headmaster after Cedric had been questioned at length. Dumbledore had wanted to know about Harry's demeanor, his emotional state just after the resurrection. Cedric, who had had much more important things to worry about at the time (like not dying) hadn't had much to offer beyond what his memories had recorded. The man who emerged from the cauldron had been calm and self assured, even as he verbally laid into the death eaters who answered his summons.

If the Headmaster doubted Harry's story, it could cause problems.

Harry had little to worry about on that front from the Diggorys. Cedric's father had been hesitant about the situation, but once he met with Harry he freely admitted that the circumstances were as they appeared. Harry Potter had survived, and had successfully tricked Voldemort himself into resurrecting him. House Diggory would back him up if needed.

Would that be enough to discourage a determined Albus Dumbledore who had convinced himself that Harry was actually Voldemort in masquerade? Unlikely. Thus, Amos Diggory and Nagini had both suggested reaching out and seeing how Harry's return might be received.

For several reasons, Sirius Black was an obvious first choice. Nagini had already met him at the bank, though he only knew her as Lady Von Richter. Harry would eventually have to meet him, as he deserved to know his godson's fate. Finally, the added concern about returning the remains of Regulus Black had weighed on Harry's mind.

To be sure, it would make for an eventful evening, laying all of that out in one meeting. The alternatives, unfortunately, were worse. For instance, say that Harry waited to tell Sirius about his brother's remains, for fear of derailing the evening with grief. When Sirius does inevitably learn that Harry knew what had happened and actually had possession of the remains, and _didn't_ say anything, it would irreparably damage any relationship they might have built by that point. It would make things harder in the near term, but if Harry planned to have any sort of normal life in his proper person, Sirius Black would be a large part of that life.

In short, Harry felt an enormous amount of pressure as he waited in his study for Lord Black's arrival.

oOoOoOoOo

The evening did not begin well.

Nagini was waiting in the entrance hall, wearing a green dress that seemed to shimmer as her scales once had. The floor length added an air of formality, giving her the appearance of hostess rather than the guest she was in truth.

She was nervous, true, but it was not anxiety over meeting Sirius that bothered her. Rather, she was worried that she might somehow disappoint Harry or damage his mission. He had reassured her, of course, but the worry was still there, even if there was nothing for it.

Unfortunately, she had little time to help or hurt the cause, as Sirius Black was moving the instant he stepped out of the Floo and recognized where he was. Who would have suspected that Sirius Black had already been to Potter Manor?

Almost before the flames had died, Sirius was stalking towards her, his wand already in hand.

"Who the hell are you?" he snarled angrily. "And how did you steal Potter Manor?"

Nagini's hands were folded in front of her, and she now raised them in a peaceful gesture. "All is not as it appears, Lord Black. Will you listen to me as I explain?"

He was five paces away from her now, his rage growing by the second. Nagini hoped that he was angry that someone appeared to have stolen his godson's legacy, rather than just angry in general. She could work with righteous anger, but unreasoning rage was going to be a bit trickier to deal with.

Sirius scowled at her. "Better make it good."

Nagini gave him a polite nod, before raising her hand. "I, the Lady Von Richter, swear on my life and magic that the tale I will tell Sirius Orion Black this night is true to the best of my knowledge and belief, and that I will not mislead him in any particular. As I say, so I swear." A green glow encompassed her hand, before fading, sealing the oath.

Sirius nodded in acknowledgement, but kept his wand out. "Fine. How are you here?"

Nagini looked at him evenly. "Lord Potter brought me."

"There is no Lord Potter."

"Until a month ago, you would have been correct." Nagini tilted her head, considering how to proceed. "What do you know of horcruxes?"

A look of disgust crossed his features. Turning his head, he spat on the floor.

Nagini, despite the tension, chuckled at the gesture. "You've heard of them, then."

Another nod. "They're the darkest magic you can do." Then he put the pieces together, and his eyes grew wide. "Voldemort."

"Yes," she confirmed. "He made several, and planned one more when he went to Godric's Hollow. But the Lady Potter was wise and powerful, or so I am told. She prepared for an attack, and thus protected her son."

"Protected?" Sirius growled. "He died alongside You-Know-Who!"

"So it seemed, yes." Nagini replied. "Voldemort, being a greedy sort, planned a second ritual to steal Harry's magic on his death. It was this ritual that interfered with the horcrux ritual, and turned Voldemort's spirit into a horcrux for one Harry James Potter."

Nagini saw Sirius' wand drop a fraction of an inch. It was a very slight movement, barely noticeable, but it told her that she was getting through to him.

"So Voldemort stole his soul as well as his life?" The horror in Sirius' voice was plain.

"Not exactly," Nagini corrected, her voice growing quieter. "He did not split Harry's soul. What happened was that Harry's soul was - quite accidentally - attached to the living mind of Voldemort. It existed as a shade, sequestered in the hinterlands of Albania, waiting for a follower or an opportunity to come back. All that time, and unbeknownst to Voldemort, Harry learned about magic from Voldemort's thoughts, taught himself spells and magic from his memories, and quietly grew in mind and magic."

"My God," whispered Sirius. "But, how…?"

"Voldemort was arrogant, as we know. He never suspected that Harry could take control for brief periods."

"He could?" Sirius Black wanted to believe the tale he was hearing, _needed_ to believe, and this woman had taken an oath. It had to be true, but how could it?

She nodded once more. "The ritual called for the flesh of a servant, the bones of the father, and the blood of an enemy. Harry forced Wormtail to take an oath to serve House Potter - never realizing that he was speaking to House Potter when he did so. Then, he forced Wormtail to retrieve the bones of James Potter, replacing the remains of Voldemort's muggle father."

Sirius' eyes grew wide at that revelation, but he kept silent, hanging on her every word.

"Then," she continued, "On the night of the third task, he reached out to young Cedric Diggory, and asked him to give his blood willingly, so that they might both be freed. The blood of a champion freed the prisoner, and it was Harry Potter who emerged from the cauldron at the end of the ritual, rather than the Dark Lord."

Nagini watched as Lord Black's wand slowly lowered, the hand that held it shaking. His voice was shaking as well, as his eyes met Nagini's.

"Where is he now?" Sirius asked.

Her response was a nod toward the far wall, and a gentle smile. "Right behind you."

Turning, Sirius Black looked at his godson for the first time in fourteen years. As he took in the sight, he gasped - for the Harry Potter that stood before him was not the teenaged boy he had expected. Instead, he saw a tall man that could easily have been James Potter.

 _No,_ Sirius corrected, as he took in the sight before him. _Maybe his brother._ Harry's chin and cheekbones were different than James', and his eyes had that haunting green color that had made Lily's eyes so distinctive. His hair, while still unruly, was pulled back into a topknot. He wore formal robes in all black, but Sirius could see how the robes had been tailored to allow for more freedom of movement than would be normal - as if this person wanted to be ready to fight at a moment's notice. The man had a neutral expression, though there was hope in his eyes - easily seen, since he wore no glasses.

What caused Sirius to again raise his wand was the sight of the yew wand in the man's hand. Even held neutrally at his side, that wand - of all wands - was utterly deadly. And only one wizard could be using _that_ wand.

"You said this was Harry Potter," said Sirius with a snarl.

"He is. In every way that matters, and as verified with the goblins, he is Harry James Potter, the Lord Potter, and your godson." Nagini's voice was calm, even as her eyes went from Harry to Sirius.

For is part, Harry had not moved one inch. He had been standing there since the instant Sirius had threatened Nagini, but had done nothing. It was her show, after all - but part of him would not permit her to come to harm.

Sirius' voice rose as he shouted back. "He's holding Voldemort's wand!"

Harry very slowly held the wand up, letting it dangle from his loose grasp. "I stole everything from Voldemort, Lord Black. His ritual, his resurrection, his memories, and," Harry held up the wand to emphasize his point. "Even his wand."

"You're fourteen," objected Sirius.

Harry nodded. "And Voldemort was over seventy. Do you expect that he planned to return to a seventy year old body? No, he planned to come back as fit as he could." Harry allowed himself to smile at that comment. "I seem to have benefited from his vanity."

Again, the hand holding his wand began shaking, and it was obvious that emotions were threatening to overcome Sirius. When he spoke again, after a moment, his voice was a hoarse whisper.

"You died," he said, simply.

Another nod. "I did."

"But you're here," Sirius said, as if hoping against hope that it were true.

"Yes," Harry replied. "It took some work, but yes, I am here."

"I can't… this can't be real. I'm having a nightmare," Sirius muttered to himself.

Harry put his wand away and stepped forward. Sirius did not react, even when Harry gently moved his outstretched hand aside.

"Sirius, the Potter elves accept me, the manor accepted me, the ring accepted me," Harry said, raising his hand and displaying the Lord's ring. "Even the portrait of old Charlus accepts that I am who I am." He looked at his godfather with kindness, and smiled down at the shorter man. "It's me, Uncle Padfoot."

"Harry," whispered Sirius, before he stepped forward and gave Harry a bearhug. Harry had no choice but to return the gesture, gently patting the man's back as he began to sob incoherently. A glance over his godfather's shoulder showed him a grinning Nagini.

oOoOoOoOo

Dinner was a pleasant affair, once the three had recovered from the emotional reunion. Most of the conversation consisted of stories about James and Lily, told with gusto by Sirius Black. Nagini responded with second-hand stories about Charlus Potter, who had fought in the Grindelwald War as she had, but with whom she had never crossed paths.

Harry sipped his wine and just soaked in the feeling of belonging that threatened to overwhelm him. A portrait, however welcoming, was no substitute for family. Now, in Sirius Black, he had what might be the beginnings of something more.

At the end of the evening, Harry told Sirius about the horcruxes - and about the bravery of one Regulus Black. Sirius did not weep for his brother, but saw stunned as he read the note the younger Black had left for the Dark Lord.

When he spoke, it was with admiration. "Reggie, you should've been in Gryffindor."

Sirius thanked Harry and Nagini for bringing Regulus home, and said that he would prepare a place in the family graveyard. Harry promised to attend whatever memorial Sirius was able to plan.

With a nod and another hug, and a promise to help in any way he could with the horcruxes, Sirius Black was gone.

As the flames of the Floo died down, Harry seemed to finally relax. He met Nagini's eyes and grinned at her. "We did it."

She could not help but return the smile. "Yes, we did." Her grin turned mischievous as she watched him sit down in a nearby chair. "Even when you showed up unexpectedly, holding a wand at his back, it went well."

Harry frowned a little at that. "I couldn't risk him hurting you."

She shook her head. "I was fine, you saw that, he wasn't going to do anything."

His eyes closed as he considered her words. "Probably," he conceded. "But I couldn't risk it."

Her eyes grew wide as she thought through what he had said. "Charlus was right, that's why you didn't take me to the cave," she said.

A nod. "You've been through so much already, Nagini, I wasn't going to put you in harm's way if I could avoid it."

Again she shook her head, walking up to him. He could not help but notice the shimmering dress she wore, and how well it suited her.

When she was standing in front of him, Nagini poked him in the chest. Not hard, just enough to emphasize her point.

"When will you understand that I'm not leaving your side, My Lord Potter if you please? Just because things get a little dangerous, that doesn't mean anything to me." She smiled up at his shocked expression. "I'm in this for the duration."

Harry nodded slowly, smiling in spite of himself. Then he frowned. "And then what?"

Nagini grinned up at him, mischief in her eye. "Then we'll see." With that, she leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight, Harry."

As she walked away, her mind raced. _Did I just do that?_

She did not know that her thoughts mirrored his own. Harry lifted a hand to his cheek, and smiled to himself. _Did she just do that?_

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ **Thank you for your patience, as my output has greatly slowed on this and my other stories. 'Tis the season for all sorts of nonsense that pulls on my time. Hopefully, we'll be back in the swing of things moving forward. Or, I'll continue to update sporadically. Anyone who wants a refund can message me and I'll see what we can do.**

 **Dealing with some of Voldemort's darker choices was never going to be easy for Harry, especially as he has to confront some of those choices as part of his personal mission. It doesn't help that this is a darker Voldemort (if that's possible), which leaves much more to work through. Harry's amazement in a previous chapter that he was functional isn't accidental - he's convinced that this situation would have driven many to utter madness. And he's not entirely wrong.**

 **Delphini is here for very specific reasons, reasons which will become clear as we move the story along. no, it's not just a way to criticize CC. She is fascinating as a character, and I wanted to make sure I got her voice just right, or else my esteemed colleagues who write excellent work involving her would give me hell. As with our Voldemort, she too is a bit more unhinged.**

 **A beautifully written take on Delphini can be found in Leyrann's Riddle of the Ages, here on FFN. Highly recommended.**

 **Feedback, as always, is welcome.**


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